


Although He Smiles

by AutumnChild22 (HonestlyHelen)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Big Brother!Obi-Wan, Big Sister!Ahsoka, Dad!Qui-Gon, F/M, Family Feels, Gen, Little!Ani, Movie: Star Wars: The Phantom Menace, Slow Burn, Tags May Change, Time Travel Fix-It, as the story progresses, novel-length fic here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:28:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 31
Words: 118,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24516916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HonestlyHelen/pseuds/AutumnChild22
Summary: Ahsoka had counted the 750 steps down from the Temple. She'd said her goodbyes, and left Anakin standing below the great pillars. What more could the Force want from her?'Everything' sums it up nicely. Disillusioned with the Jedi, and still reeling from her recent departure, Ahsoka wakes 13 years in the past and faces a harsh reality. As events begin to unfold, she faces a ticking clock that times a galaxy's end. Plenty of Obi-Wan/Ahsoka/Anakin/Qui-Gon bonding.Also started posting this on FFNet years ago, but I thought to post it here as well.
Relationships: Anakin Skywalker & Ahsoka Tano, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Ahsoka Tano, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker, Qui-Gon Jinn & Ahsoka Tano, Qui-Gon Jinn & Anakin Skywalker, Qui-Gon Jinn & Obi-Wan Kenobi
Comments: 135
Kudos: 364





	1. My Brother

**Author's Note:**

> Written before Season 7 (actually started this when I was 13, but that version has long since been buried somewhere with a warning label over it). I wrote a majority of this at 17, so the warning is, I was young and very gung ho with all the words I knew. But hey, if you like novel-length slow burn fics, this may be your jam. Also posted on FFNet.  
> Disclaimer: Everything is now Disney's. Cool.

Two-hundred and sixty-six, two-hundred and sixty-seven… there were only another four-hundred and eighty-three steps to go. The rhythmic tapping of her boots against the ancient stone steps would be sure to haunt her for years to come. _Two-hundred and eighty-two_. The warm gust of Coruscanti wind blowing too warm for this time of year waked around her, a gentle caress. _Two-hundred and eighty-seven._ Doubtless it would have been more fitting it were a cold day, where the whisper of ice on the air bit away at her skin. If Ahsoka was one for romantics, it would have been perfect. But, this was real life.

And currently, reality was that Ahsoka Tano was descending the steps of the Jedi Temple for the final time.

She was turning her back on all she had. Well, they couldn't expect anything less. The only family she had ever known were willing to abandon her to the wind — she was a pawn in the political game the Ancient Jedi Order were eager to partake in. Well, not all of them. There were still a few she could consider friends. She knew one was standing below the colossal pillars, wracking the remnants of their training bond in the attempts to ellicit any sort of response from her. The unspoken question became unbridled and panicked across the bond — _Could I have done more?_ She hoped he understood that she could never blame him. _Not your fault, Mast — Anakin. It's not your fault. This is something I have to do for myself._

_\- Snips! -_

He'd heard.

She knew it wasn't her imagination that her footfalls now fell faster.

No one would be right in blaming her. _All_ she had ever known had betrayed her. Ideals and values she pressed to uphold could be so blindly abandoned by the Jedi Order. The innocent became board pieces, moved about and sacrificed in a game all to benefit the higher-ranking pieces. Well, not this board piece. Never again.

 _Three-hundred and three._ Really, it had never occurred to her so much as it did in this moment that there were so many steps up to the Temple. But Ahsoka was determined to count each one, and let every step add weight to her shoulders. Each one was a further step away from the Jedi, away from Anakin, away from everything she had ever known. But it would be counterproductive to turn back now; she would betray herself.

She had to keep going.

A part of her looked to the Force now, wanting to find some solace in its omnipotent presence. Another part true to her resolve, ignored the Temple behind her and wanted her to hurry her steps along. So, as she tapped into the ancient presence, and found nothing but blank space, she stopped. No, froze would be more accurate.

 _Keep going, Ahsoka,_ she told herself.

Swallowing past the stone in her throat, another foot fell before the other.

So the Force had no comment on her decision. But it wasn't only that… there was no response at all. No whispering wind almost a caress around her form. No calming presence passing through her mind. There was an emptiness that wanted to see her fall; _trip_ down these buggering steps.

Three-hundred and seventy five, Force dammit.

Why was there no response? Why was there no answer?

…

_Was she wrong?_

For a fleeting moment, she almost turned her head. Would it be so bad to rush up those stairs and embrace Anakin? Wouldn't it be better, _safer_ to allow the Council to welcome her back? She'd miss Rex, Jesse, Fives and the others. Many an evening saw her in the barracks, reliving the heroic, and often ridiculous endeavours of the 501st.

She craved one more cup of tea with her grandmaster on his preposterously soft couch. Long missions that dragged her own Master away sent her knocking on the next door up. More than once she'd crawled into a ball on that couch, and woke to find a robe tucked around her. It was often the smell of brewed caf or tea that tempted her from sleep when she awoke in Master Obi-Wan's common area. It was a strange thing to recall now, granted... but she found it was a memory she was fond of, nonetheless

...

_I should go back._

_No…_ It rocked through her, an adamant force behind it urging her steps onwards… and away. She nearly slipped down a step. The breeze she felt was more than the unseasonably warm gusts passing by. Relief flowed through her at the familiar presence once again offering guidance. Her pace resumed once more.

Perhaps she could leave. And in doing so, not worry that it would lead to what seemed to be the looming downfall of peace and justice in this Republic — not that she played such an important role. But to wake up one day and find the Sith in power and the Jedi no more, and know in her heart that she could have done something...

_Step four-hundred and forty-five._

_What to do now? Where do I go?_ She waited with bated breath for some answer… for some form of guidance. In fact, she waited another two-hundred and twenty steps, but still nothing. No, she wouldn't turn back. She would keep going. Anakin had trained her to be better than this… _s_ _tronger_. If the Force was going to be silent, then let it. She may have left the Order, but she still had its training and deep-set values and ideals. She would be patient, she would wait for the Force to answer in its own mystic time.

Perhaps she should give it a few days, try and acclimatise herself to the beginnings of a new life, and maybe then try and commune with the Force. There was nothing _overly_ pressing that needed addressing right this instant _,_ surely. She was leaving the fate of the Republic, _the Light itself_ , in good hands. Justice and peace would not crumble under Jedi guidance.

_You know those are empty words, Ahsoka. Why else would you be stuck counting these steps? They sacrificed you in a political game._

Then she would make her own way. She would find a new life, away from here, away from the Jedi. Some place where the Force was clear, and she could be of help in this desolate war.

 _Yes_. Ahsoka clenched her fists on step six-hundred and fifty-nine. She would resign herself to a quiet fate and find someplace in this universe that needed her. _Jedi flow wherever the Force blows_ , was Master Anakin's ridiculous idiom. She often questioned where he came up with such sayings. She doubted Master Kenobi, with all his incessant eye-rolling and ever-tapping feet, would have been the source of many of his former apprentice's inane sayings.

_Oh, Anakin._

She hoped with a crushing sincerity that he would carry on without her. The Order may not need her, but it needed him. The galaxy needed Skywalker. _The Force_ needed its Chosen One. He wouldn't have to do it alone. He had Master Obi-Wan to watch out for him, and (if Ahsoka's suspicions were correct) Senator Amidala as well. _He_ was in good hands, despite all his mounting frustrations and quick to anger demeanour. To be honest, she sometimes half expected Master Kenobi to reach the end of his tether with 'Anakin's Antics'™. It was easy to imagine an exasperated hand perhaps snapping out past oversized robes to slap away his grin. Yet, in those moments she knew it wasn't her imagination when she felt the fleeting flicker of frustration bleed away from her grandmaster's aura.

Ahsoka was smiling when she finally reached step seven-hundred and fifty. Yes, if she had faith in anyone in this universe, it was in Anakin Skywalker, the Chosen One — and in Obi-Wan Kenobi, the unwavering light in any situation. She was just sorry she wouldn't be by their side to witness the end of the war.

A sense of calm glided over her, accompanied by a soft, promising curl of her lips. She folded her hands to the small of her back, and lifted her chin to face the sprawl of Coruscant. Her boots finally passed beyond the boundaries of the Temple, and made firm contact with the Coruscant cityscape below…

... The sudden shove on her back, and the wrench on both her arms sent her reeling towards the ground.

Her skin was crawling, set alight by something unknown to her. A deafening whistle pierced her skull. And _nothing_ , no whistling bomb nor battlefield clatter, could come close to matching this — it screeched, shrill and torturous as it shattered a hole through her. It seemed to writhe beneath her skin, inching its way slowly, deeper and deeper like a hot pike, or a piercing lightsaber. _Sith_ , was the only thought that came to her in all the pandemonium.

Ahsoka Tano was a Jedi padawan trained by war. She had faced down countless armies of battle droids, walked the scarred lands of distant battlefields and spent her years trying to match every step of Anakin Skywalker, the Chosen One. She'd faced the Children, Force wielders who brandished the Force as if it were a mere play thing. She had been hung over a Slaver's city in an animal's cage, no more than a rodent and awaiting Anakin's rescue. She had spent hours in Sith torture chambers, counting the moments to Anakin's inevitable arrival as if it were the only thing keeping her sane. But that was _nothing_ compared to the storm of anguish that rained down upon her now.

But in the mess of remembered hardships, one constant thread kept her memories stitched together — the promise that Anakin would come to save her. So, in this exact vein, it could be forgiven that her first thoughts — her first _pleas_ — were for her master.

_ANAKIN!_

_…_

_No!_

The response echoed pass the pain, splintering along every stretch of her mind. It was not Anakin's voice, neither was it any voice in particular. The contradictory tone, both bellowing and hushed spoke of only one source. _The Force._ The Force itself was screaming... _sc_ _reaming at her._

 _What did I do? What_ do _I do?_ Ahsoka tried pleading with it. She had received visions before, but nothing of this magnitude. Nothing to this extent of sensation nor immersion.

 _The Chosen One._ It was whispered around her, once again a troubling paradox. The gentle roar replaced the whistling shriek. Anakin's title echoed around her, repeating all at once with varying arrays of emotion. Anakin? _Anakin_!

 _Can't help. Won't help._ The Force exploded through her mind. She was faintly aware of her own screaming joining the cacophony in this nowhere-place. _He is the Chosen One._ _He will bring balance._ Everything came instantaneously, the sensation overwhelming. _Balance? Pain!_

 _Why?_ Ahsoka choked.

 _Show her._ A breath down her neck, then everywhere. And then she was weightless. The pain stopped.

A haphazard array of vivid colours burst before her mind's eye. Ahsoka swallowed back a strangled cry, as slowly the dominant colour washed her vision. The burning red of a lightsaber. _The Sith._ The smell of burnt durasteel, the settling dust of rubble, and the stench of singed flesh assaulted her. She recoiled. _The Chosen One_ repeatedly sounded around her.

And then the red was blue, and pivoting at an impossible speed towards her. Instinctively, she dived away from the blade, but it was too late. It cleaved through her shoulder, separating muscle from bone and cauterising flesh. She cried out, before she was standing once more, the wound gone. She felt the familiar weight of a lightsaber in her palm, and the Force flowing unbounded through her body. Then came the shots.

Up came her blade, blue and the wrong length, to fend off the bolts. Fear gripped her, and soon her movements became panicked, mistimed. She felt the searing heat burn through her body, again and again until it was no more. _No more,_ she pleaded.

Her only response was a change of scenery.

' _Stop him!'_ someone shouted as Ahsoka found herself somehow soaring over… clones? Details were blurry, but they were most certainly shooting at her. She rebounded off a surface, bringing her saber down through a helmet before she was flipping once more, the remaining clones shouting at each other to ' _bring down the Jedi!'_

What was this?

Someone was screaming at them to stop, that _'no!'_ bloodcurdling. An urgent bid to _get to the Senator_ sounded through her mind, the voice young, unknown and terrified. And then it was no more. A bolt ripped through her thigh, bringing her down. Then it was pummelling repeatedly through her body. The last thing she saw was the Coruscant skyline, the sun slowly disappearing and the familiar, comforting shadows blanketing the skyscrapers.

She came too in the cockpit of a starfighter, the fighter moving at speeds she was unprepared for. Hands, gloved in a clone's armour shot out to pull the fighter around. Flanking another starfighter trailing the sky of some planet she barely recognised, Ahsoka watched as her hands reached for the weapons control, and she homed in on the Republic fighter before her. Her incredulous mind refused to accept the insignia scrawled across the side of the fighter. She knew the serial number off the by heart, herself having sometimes waited in hanger bays of cruisers or the Temple hanger itself for the starfighter to appear, with its dark green paint peeling off from battle damage and the vacuum of space. But, like Anakin, it would always return, and she would find solace in its lone occupant. _No. No!_

... she fired, the shot perfect as it clipped the starboard engine, sending the fighter into an uncontrollable spin. The burning ship trailed a frantic line of smoke across the sky, before it plummeted into the suspended city, now only a ball of fire to rain down upon the planet surface below. Ahsoka's heart clenched.

...

 _"Master Skywalker!_ " A voice, quiet and terrified, gasped the name with a sense of desperate relief. Ahsoka found herself staring at a youngling, far too young to be acquainted with the amount of fear she felt radiating off of him. But his cry. ' _Anakin?'_ she asked into the Force, hoping to feel his comforting presence. Whatever horror she was witnessing, _living_ , his presence alone could soothe her. They could save these younglings. Master Anakin was here. They could get them out of there. He would be able to do that. Always. Easy. Skyguy could save the day. _"There's too many of them! What do we do?"_

 _Anakin, we can use grappling ropes out that window,_ Ahsoka tried to say, moving towards said pane of transparisteel to inspect for any easy-to-exploit structural weaknesses there might be. Somewhere in her mind she wondered how long it had been since the Council had the panes replaced? Ten, twenty years? There should be a point where the transparisteel was weakest... If not, she'd do the honours herself. Reaching for her belt, Ahsoka had barely brushed the cool metal at her hip before a lightsaber igniting had her flinch. Her mind had snapped back to the litany of tactical training she possessed so readily, that she hadn't thought to wonder why Anakin hadn't responded.

The terrified gasp that resonated through the room sent her heart crashing. She felt his chilling determination pierce through the Force. _No._

_Oh, please no._

_It can't be..._

_NO._

She wailed in defiance, whirling around, nearly tripping over her own legs in the haste to turn and run at him.

She had no saber.

She was unarmed.

Ahsoka caught a glimpse of her master's ghastly expression, finally skidding to a stop before the small boy. She tried to summon the boy's training saber, but it was useless. She had no physical presence in this vision. The blade, angry and fizzing, fell through her. She closed her eyes when she heard the strangled scream behind her, and the sickening splutter of burning flesh. What followed was a cacophony of terrified, panic-stricken shrieks into the Force, pleading with anyone for help. _Please! Master Yoda! Master Windu!_

She purled around, summoning every grasp on the Force that she had — and _yanked_. The robes on that monster jerked towards her, and Anakin's feet were wrenched out from beneath him. His head turned, and she continued to pull him towards her, every ounce of her strength concentrated on holding him down, no matter that this was a vision. She nearly stumbled when she gazed into the yellow orbs so alien to Anakin. Those eyes would forever burn into her.

The younglings, as if suddenly becoming aware of her, gasped. "Behind me!" Ahsoka commanded, calling Anakin's lightsaber to hand. She felt clambering hands at her legs and skirt. His gaze narrowed, and she felt his rage flare. " _Ahsoka._ " he boomed, the voice so eerily familiar, yet so foreign all at once.

 _She did it._ The Force was suddenly back swirling through her mind. 

_No! Not now!_ Ahsoka gasped in a breath, the voice ensnaring her concentration. _No!_

 _But how did she do it?_ There was confusion. _She is the one. Take her!_

 _Ignore it, Ahsoka, ignore it,_ she told herself, for Anakin was beginning to move on the floor. Tiny fists gripped her tights. Faces were pressed into her legs, their combined strength somewhat throwing her balance. _They need me... I can't leave them!_

... But then they were gone, the decision made for her. Ahsoka was left blinking in the wake of Anakin's tormented visage. _Vader,_ the Force breathed. 

_'Vader?'_ she breathed back.

This time, when she came too, it was not just her own pain, both physical and mental that she felt. Instead, it seemed to be heightened by the presence of another. Someone else's thoughts and feelings flowed through her. A blinding heat burst across her face, as if she had stuck her face in a blast-furnace. She could not shy away from it. _Up there_ , came the thought, and instinctually, Ahsoka found herself reaching for her lightsaber. What was this? What was the Force making her live?

 _Towards you. Move. Now!_ Ahsoka rolled away at the unspoken command. Sure enough, two boots nearly smeared her into the rocky ground below as they landed. The saber in her hands ignited as she recovered from the roll, once more upright and eyeing off the attacker.

She nearly fell back to the steaming ground below. Anakin, yellow-eyed and seeping fury into the Force, stood before her, lightsaber blaring.

 _"Anakin!_ " she screamed at him, but the voice was not her own. She wanted to ask him what was going on, but instead, " _Why do this? Anakin, why?_ "

 _Master Obi-Wan!_ Realisation swept across her like a wave, her arms coming up at their own volition to deflect a blow. She wanted to cry, and it was not solely _her_ wish.

She moved fast, quicker than she ever had before. Of course, she had had her own share of tricky situations and tough scenarios that called for fast hands and a trained eye, so she was more than adept with a lightsaber. However, there was a controlled strength flowing through her now as she parried and slid against her Master's blows, and she understood to some extent that this was not solely her own skill with a saber at play. There were years of practice and sheer talent being called upon _desperately_ to hold back a foe at equal, possibly even better footing. This was Master Kenobi. She knew the presence flowing through her, her every move now his responsibility. It was an intrusion she was more than uncomfortable with.

As she made a jab at Anakin, the two of them dancing up a beam suspended perilously above a flowing river of lava, she realised that she had never been privy to Obi-Wan's thoughts before. Somehow, she imagined they weren't usually this panicked and pained. Every time she caught a glimpse of Anakin's eyes, she felt not only her own heart stop, but Obi-Wan's as well. Double the pain, double the blow. As she— _Obi-Wan_ moved, she was too caught in the desperate need to stop _Vader_ to think on her own. She found herself missing a master she never knew; a love she never had; a diplomacy that now lay in ruins, awaiting the cruel tyranny of an unwanted emperor; and a brother, _son_ she never had.

No wait. Her brother was currently making unremitting swings and cuts at her. It was _their_ brother that Obi-Wan swung at.

The Force didn't need to scream through her head, it didn't need to prick her every nerve ending and needle its way through her burning flesh. No. Not as she stood as Obi-Wan, slipping as he held back the boy he had raised. Not as she stared into Anakin's face and felt the anger flare into the Force around them. No, the pain alone in the mind she occupied would be enough to plague her every waking moment for the rest of her existence.

She flipped— _they_ flipped, and ended up on a bank, the fiery hell of Mustafar racing by. Ahsoka watched as her master stilled before them, the lightsaber hitching, squirming in his hand, as if he were itching to kill Obi-Wan and be done with it — as if it were a life long goal he was about to accomplish.

This was all so wrong. So utterly, horribly wrong. Ahsoka wanted to stop; to just watch the horrendous nightmare she were living play out and not be forced to partake like some puppet that Obi-Wan wielded. The heat encroached from all around, both her and Obi-Wan's breaths laboured and hard. She had tried to stop him, they had both tried to stop him. But Anakin, with the lightsaber in hand that had sliced through countless innocents crying and pleading for their lives, snarled at them both.

 _Anakin. Why?_ Obi-Wan repeated the thought that had sounded continuously throughout their fray, and she swallowed the throbbing heart in her throat.

She had abandoned him. _She had abandoned him._ She had not been there to help him. Ahsoka had left the Order, _and she had not been there to help him_. Words, names, faces all whispered through her mind; she could neither tell if it were Obi-Wan's thoughts, or the Force desperate to show her what abomination her master had become.

_Padmé… Visions… Death… Children?_

_He killed them all._

_…_

_No._

_"It's over Anakin, I have the high ground!"_ The words left her mouth, hoarse and exhausted.

The Sith's eyes narrowed, its shoulders squaring. _"You underestimate my power._ "

 _"Don't try it."_ Obi-Wan breathed, Ahsoka tightening her grip around the blue-bladed saber in hand. The Force writhed around them, clear through her mind. The groove of Master Kenobi's lightsaber felt both alien and familiar in her hand; it was both hers and not. But there was no hesitation, no reluctance or fumble when Anakin sprung up and summersaulted over them. Her arm went up, Master Kenobi controlling the angle.

She wanted to close her eyes when she heard the expected tear of cloth and the sickening sound of cauterised flesh. Something, multiple somethings fell before what remained of her master met the burning ground. She was forced to look on him, and it was then that her world finally collapsed.

Words alone could not describe the struggling corpse attempting to pull himself up the embankment. One arm was all that remained of his limbs. His face spoke a thousand words, but _betrayal_ was the most prominent. _Help,_ and _hate_ seemed to be contradicting each other, but they were there as well. _Master!_ _Anakin!_

She tried screaming at Obi-Wan, to drag him down that embankment and pull what remained of Anakin to safety.

But he could not, and she understood why. She was defeated. She wanted to collapse.

And then, if her own pain was not enough, it seemed that a sudden bridge had given way, and the entirety of Obi-Wan's emotions became hers. She nearly choked. If before, the Force had been attempting to show her glimpses of the events that lead to this, she now received every detail. She felt every bit of his being, every inch of his pain, and begun to cry.

"You were the Chosen One." Her throat was on fire. "It was said that you would destroy the Sith, _not_ join them."

Pained flashes of the Temple, padawans, knights, masters and younglings littering the hallways.

"Bring balance to the Force, not leave it in darkness!"

Anakin fell to his knees before someone — the Force was hazy around whoever it was — upon a shoddy holorecording. Ahsoka flinched back as she saw Master Windu fall to his death out a shattered window. _The Emperor_ rose over Anakin, his face a deformed monstrosity, and the Force flowing pure black around him. And, it seemed, the Force was equally as obscure around her master.

Sudden movement from Obi-Wan dragged her away from his memories, and away from the howling creature that was once Anakin Skywalker. Up the bank Ahsoka was taken, until he stopped. Her eyes followed his. _There_ on the ground lay her master's lightsaber. Both Ahsoka and Obi-Wan reached for it in tandem. One final hesitation saw Master Kenobi turn back to his fallen padawan, and she almost begged him not to turn and look back. That wasn't Anakin. It just _couldn't_ be. A sudden surge of pain gripped her heart like a vice.

_"I HATE YOU!"_

It rattled through both their minds, and an unwelcome image came to her, of a small, innocent face, enclosed in the arms of a young Jedi Knight. If it were possible, she felt Kenobi's heart shatter _just that bit more._ However, the image was quickly destroyed by the overpowering truth of Anakin— _Vader_ — a monster left to die upon this forceforsaken planet. _Master,_ Ahsoka tried croaking. She thought Obi-Wan was done, but,

"You were my brother, Anakin," _my son_ , came the thought. A tear went down both their cheeks, quickly swallowed up by the blistering heat. _"I loved you._ "

And then the inevitable happened. Dangerously close to the lava, what little remained of Anakin's legs caught fire, the flames rapidly licking up his back. _No, end this. End it now._ _Please!_ His screaming grew tenfold, his pitch warbling, the pain unescapable.

_All he had been… all that kindness, all that bravery, selflessness…_

_A brother, a son, a friend, a husband… my master. A General in the Republic Army, an image of light and hope! He was the Chosen One._

_Help him._

And then the heat was gone. Mustafar fizzled into nothing, Anakin's demonic howls were no more, and the foreign presence of Master Obi-Wan's mind was taken with it. Finally Ahsoka was allowed to collapse. What constituted for her legs in this form gave way, but then she could not stop herself. The Force swirled through her mind and soul, her body tugged in all directions. Head went over boot more times than she could count. She tried to scream, but there was no breath left to scream with.

Everything burned a blinding white.


	2. To Be Separatist Propaganda

"No! _Force!"_

Panic. Sheer panic and desperation jolted her.

Ahsoka shot upwards, hands rising to her throat immediately just to to ensure it was still there. Yes, _yes. You're... alright. You're fine_. She was still in one piece, laying _somewhere_ with her heart still pounding. The breath she had been firmly holding finally fled from her lungs with an audible hiss, her body following the movement. One arm rested on the stone parapet beside her as finally, the tears came. With one giant wretch, she convulsed forward. She knew she couldn't afford to stop and cry, and she needed it to end as soon as her chest began to heave. But then Anakin's face came to mind, reminding her _why_ her heart was broken but leaving her mind to still attempt putting together the pieces of his betrayal. _The Sith_. They had tainted his mind; _poisoned_ it.

The younglings.

The Jedi.

The Republic.

Anakin.

Obi-Wan.

_But he can't. He can't be a Sith. Not my Master._

_But he is…_

Her hand raced to her heart, her fingers twisting the material of her shirt. Fourteen years of Jedi training had not prepared her for this — not in the slightest. So much emotion, too much pain. It still pulsed through her, gradually and torturously, not giving any indication that it would ease any time soon. She might be away from the vision, but she could still feel it — still _see_ it.

The Force had shown her the future — what else could it be? Dismay and dread still held her in place— as though, if she were to reach out, she could touch Anakin's face; feel the tears still hot beneath her fingertips; as if when she stood up, she could run down the embankment and pull her master to safety.

She was rocked forward again by her own hot tears. Too much pain. _Their faces._ She had not cried this hard since… since…

She found herself missing Master Qui-Gon. She found herself wondering why Master Yoda hadn't been there to save her and the others. Where had Master Windu been? Why hadn't she been fast enough to reach the senator in the speeder? _Good enough_ , even? Why had Master Skywalker betrayed us?

Ahsoka shook her head — she had to stop. She could not sit here and cry. She could not dwell on their faces. Something had to be done. The Force had shown her this for a reason. She had to get back up those steps. She had to _stop_ Anakin. _Have to stop him from becoming Vader. Have to stop him from becoming a Sith._

Shunting the pain away, the muscles in her legs strained, almost as if unused to the action of simply getting up. Her limbs were awkward and her balance precarious, but Ahsoka pushed that away as well, turning instead to the Force for guidance once more. Breathing out, her equilibrium was regained.

_Okay. Step one; get back up all those kriffing steps._

Ahsoka whirled around, preparing herself to climb, but —

Where were they?

It took her back a few fumbled footfalls, to find herself staring down a small, deserted arcade and not up at the great colossal form of the Jedi Temple. _What?_ They were gone. Ahsoka's head spun around, her body deftly following the 360 degree swivel. All 750 steps had gone. In fact, it seemed the entirety of Coruscant had disappeared.

Ahsoka moved towards the parapets and clamped her hands down against the cold stone at hip height. _This can't be right._ Instead of the sprawling skyline with endless lanes of traffic, the gentle curves of a rolling hillside created the horizon. Copious amounts of greenery and a blue sky formed the backdrop to an archaic city — summer, spring and the particular scent of Nipner berri— _Naboo?! I'm on Naboo?_

Her head began shaking on its own accord. No, this wasn't right. She had just left the Temple, and the Jedi Order itself. She was about to disappear into the crowds of Coruscant, searching for a new life. Well, that had been the plan. Of course, the Force, it seemed, had other ideas.

_Ahsoka. Prioritise. Naboo, vision. The Force. Have to tell the Jedi. Anakin!_

She had to calm the deluge of thoughts, all panicked and racing. _Breathe, little one. Breathe, you must._ Master Yoda's words flooded through her head, and she followed every step of the old meditation, calming every essence of herself both physically and mentally. She had to be calm. She could almost feel Master Yoda's tiny clawed hand pressing gently against her back. _Calm,_ he seemed to radiate.

When her boots came back down to press firmly against the stone bridge beneath her, Ahsoka curled her fists. _The Jedi._

And then she was off at a start. While running would have been suspicious, a 'brisk walk' seemed to be more fitting. She had to find the Nubian authorities. Force knes how she'd wound up on Naboo, but she wasn't about to start doubting her reality.

 _Wait._ Ahsoka froze, the sudden absence of her boots clattering against the cobbled stretch of path, grating against her hearing. What if this still were the vision? She spared a glance down at herself. Stupid, yes, but she was still solid. Still here. And the air felt too real against her face; tasted too real against her tongue to be a vision. There was no strange feeling of uncontrollability that came with her visions. This was reality. She was rushing through a deserted plaza in Theed, millions of lightyears away from her last known location. Ahsoka started moving again.

 _Observe everything._ A combination of war-honed senses and the Force sent her eyes dancing around the area she rushed through. And something _was_ blatantly wrong. It wasn't until she slowed her pace and found herself standing in a still deserted corridor that she began shaking her head again. No. This was wrong — _again_. Perhaps it _was_ still a vision. Because where were the people of Theed?

Ahsoka moved around a potted plant that had spilt out onto the road.

This was a prime shopping stretch in the capital, at a prime time according to the position of the sun and the heat. It was impossible that every shutter was not open, shop owners and goods-sellers attempting to lure customers into the confines of their stores. Where were the luscious fabrics and clothing on display, the glittering embroidery sparkling in the slated sunlight? Where were the finely dressed citizens, bartering for the lowest prices and carting their children, bleary eyed and bemoaning the experience, behind them? Where was the alluring smell of hot caf, and the excited chatter of patrons at said caf shops? It was the sight that welcomed Ahsoka the last time she had been on Naboo. So why this time, was there no similar fanfare?

She was sure the confusion was palpable across her face as she swung around. Perhaps there was some day of rest at play, or some ceremony taking place that called all of Theed's citizens to the palace.

However, Ahsoka's answers came in an awful, but ever-so-familiar sound. The rhythmic pounding sent waves through her body. Sheer instinct and battle-trained intuition sent her down immediately on her haunches, little more than a breeze of wind as she crept her way to the parapet. No, there was no mistaking that sound. Her hands went to her waist, ready to retrieve her lightsabers — _blast_ , her blades were forever gone, lost somewhere in the underworld of Coruscant. _Great._

They were getting closer. She pressed herself further to the stone, preparing to glance over. Counting the seconds, she waited until the familiar _'clank'_ of the robotic soldiers carried them beneath the bridge she hid upon. And sure enough, as she peered over, her suspicions were confirmed. Naboo had been invaded by Separatist forces. Battalions of battle droids marched down the street, the familiar sound of their clattering feet echoing off the cobble stone pathways and through the arcade below. Ahsoka sunk back below the parapet.

Naboo had been invaded. How did the Republic not know about this? How did the _Jedi_ not know?

_Are we truly that lost?_

Pressing her back against the stone wall behind her, she sunk down until her legs were stretched long before her. A knee came up so she could rest her arm, while her thoughts lay swirling in the maelstrom that was indecision.

She was no longer a Jedi — no longer a commander in the Republic Forces. In fact, she had been placed on trial and was sure to face execution by the same Republic she wished to uphold. No, it was a _democracy_ that she wished to uphold, whether she was a Jedi or not. She had faith in the democracy.

_My allegiance is to the Republic, Anakin. To democracy!_

The words filtered through her head, and she found herself flinching back at the hoarse scream of Master Kenobi. _That damn vision!_ But, she found herself agreeing with her grandmaster. She had a duty as a member of this Republic to ensure its longevity. Perhaps it was a remaining delusion of grandeur or need-to-help that spurred her on, but Ahsoka found herself clenching down her jaw. She may no longer be a Jedi, she may no longer hold a position of authority, she may no longer be trusted by this Republic... But she would ensure its survival. She was on Naboo for a reason — she wasn't blind. The Force had shown her that hellish vision of the future and then sent her to Naboo to serve some purpose. She was merely a servant of the Light, and a loyalist to Democracy to a fault. Naboo had always been such an unwavering image of peace and hope throughout the Republic, and in particular, Senator Amidala.

 _Padmé. Master Anakin is married to the Senator._ Somewhere within the choppy, jumbled imagery that were Master Kenobi's memories, she'd seen Padmé's face, heartbroken when told her husband had become a monster.

 _No, prioritise Ahsoka. Later._ Yes, she would dwell on this revelation later, as much as it pleaded for her attention now. She would have to confront Anakin, or at least have Master Obi-Wan do so. But for now, she had to help. If not for the Republic, then for the Senator. She would not let _this_ light fade in the galaxy.

But what to do?

Peering once more over the parapet, she shook her head. No, there was no way she could take on an entire battalion of battle droids. Even with her lightsabers it would be tricky (Force forbid she ever admit that to Anakin). To take on the droids without them would be sure suicide. She had to think around this. A hand flew up to stroke her chin. What to do? Perhaps she could find a communication terminal in the palace and send an encoded message to Coruscant. To the Temple. _The Temple._

Ahsoka turned her head, immediately shutting down the onslaught of broken imagery that threatened to bombard her. She could practically smell the charred flesh. _Prioritise._

She had to find a communication terminal. She had to warn the Council of what was to come. They had betrayed her, yes, but she never wished to see them destroyed. All those lives in the Temple, sworn to peace and serenity — slaughtered. No, she had to do something. She had to set aside her own pride and let them see what she'd seen.

Suddenly, as though a gust of wind came swirling down the suspended arcade she hid in, a gentle breeze brushed against her montrals. Ahsoka spared a glance to the empty space, then allowed it to direct her gaze.

 _There_.

Ahsoka reshuffled herself, pushing herself up just the bit further. No, there was no mistaking the familiar dress of Nubian Royalty. The regal presence spoke past the black of the Queen's dress, and the outlandish colours of the handmaidens and the presence of such attendants only spoke further volumes of the current situation on Naboo. It seemed the Separatists had captured the Queen and were leading her off. Ahsoka wanted time to consider why such a move would be advantageous to the Separatists — perhaps simply just taking Naboo would be reason enough. For such a prominent figure (well, planet) of strength and resilience to fall to the Separatists—

No, she had to help. Although she had left the Order, it would take some time to divorce herself from its teachings and wisdoms, values and principles. So perhaps that was why she found herself waiting for the entourage to pass by below her. Perhaps it was why she chose just the right moment to mount the parapets and send herself sailing down directly onto of an unsuspecting droid.

There was an absolute frenzy that followed. Without the aid of her lightsabers, Ahsoka was left relying on her own agility and the Force itself to aid her attack. She pounced off one droid, summersaulted to avoid the blaster bolts, and kicked another two over. Somewhere in the fray she had counted twelve droids in attendance. That was three so far, nine more to go.

Rolling to avoid a volley of panicked fire from the guards, she retrieved the blaster from her fallen victims. Another three droids went down as her hands, both use to swinging lightsabers, were instead occupied by blasters. Some part of her faintly recalled a certain clone captain, and she found herself smiling despite the situation.

A bolt flew past dangerously close to her face. Ahsoka ducked down, legs almost sliding over her head in the exertion to stay low. A droid was charging towards her, blaster aiming at a speed not even Force-assisted reflexes could compensate for. _No._

A barrage of blaster fire came from nowhere, sending the droid over with a mighty ' _crash!'._ Ahsoka blinked towards her saviour and found the Security Captain and his small force holding their own. Not wasting a moment, the ex-padawan was once more on her feet. Sparing a glance to the blasters in hand, she felt a note of disgust directed towards the weapons.

_So uncivilised._

She almost went to throw it away, until she thought better of it. Being unarmed at this time would be extremely unwise, so rapidly, they were strapped to her belt. She needed to turn back to the fight. _Time to end this._ And effortlessly, Ahsoka called on the Force. Sending two droids hurtling through the air, she picked one up and crunched it into a rather interestingly-shaped ball of durasteel, before throwing it through the last three, bowling them all over as the Captain and his team finished them off. Once it was over, there was a strange moment of complete stillness as they all scanned the area. She could hear the early morning chorus of birds in the trees scattered throughout the city, but there were no immediate threats. Good. However, there soon would be if they didn't move.

Ahsoka dusted herself off and approached the Queen, bowing as she did so. She hoped the sweeping action was deep enough to convey her respect. Formalities had never been her master's stronger suite, and while she may be reckless, she was not disrespectful — well, if she could help it, that was. She had certainly grown in the four years spent as Anakin Skywalker's padawan.

"Your Highness." She began, meeting the gaze of the young woman before her… and almost doing a double take. For a mere instant, she thought she was staring into the face of Senator Amidala, but no. There were distinct features that she did not recognise, and her presence in the Force was unknown to her. This wasn't Padmé, but _Force_ there was a strong resemblance. "We have to get you off the streets. It's the only chance you have at getting out of here." Instincts and war-honed senses still directed Ahsoka's every move. Swiftly moving past the unwelcome distraction and moving to the side, she cleared the Queen's path. It was expected when they all observed a moment of hesitation, before the Security Captain was nodding his confirmation, and the entire entourage was moving to a nearby alleyway. Ahsoka let the Captain keep a lookout as she moved closer to the Queen, all the while her hands itching for her 'sabers.

"And who exactly are _you?_ " The inevitable question she had been wanting to avoid came from the advisor standing behind her. Ahsoka spared him a glance, and immediately recognised the ageing man. However, it took a moment to place his face — he seemed somehow different to the last time she had seen him in the Senate.

But of course, his question. It came as somewhat of a surprise, considering that it was not solely just Coruscant her face had been plastered across (along with the big, foreboding word ' _TRAITOR'_ attached below), but the entirety of the Republic and the holonet. No, it wasn't vanity to expect them to spit out the name ' _Tano'_ , however, a feeling of failure on her part expected them to immediately identify her as the 'Rogue Jedi'. So when they didn't, Ahsoka was slightly taken aback.

"I am Ahsoka Tano, your Highness." Perhaps that would be enough… However, judging by their faces, it was not. The young Queen must have been newly elected then (strange, she had not heard of an election on Naboo — surely Senator Amidala would have mentioned it), for she had assisted the previous queen, Jamilla, many times before. Surely the Security Captain recognised her. Surely Governor Bibble recognised her. She spared them all a glance, and felt the cautious shifting of a blaster from the Captain. No recognition flared in their eyes. It was both a curse, and a blessing.

"Your Highness, you have no need to fear me."

"Are you part of the Jedi ambassadors sent to negotiate?" Finally, the Queen spoke, but her words caught Ahsoka's attention.

 _Jedi? Negotiate? Why negotiate with the Separatists? Count Dooku would never listen to our terms._ But she had to spit out some answer for the Nubian Royal. Was she a Jedi? No, she was not. It was best not to lie in a situation like this. The truth would undoubtedly be uncovered, and it would only serve to blacken her credibility if she lied here and now.

"No, Your Highness, I am no Jedi. However, if your Highness would trust me—" The Security Captain took a sudden step forward. Ahsoka raised her arms in submission. "— The Separatists will most likely hold you ransom until either their demands are met, or the Republic Fleet arrive." She didn't mean to growl, but she could feel the blaster trained on her. They needed to move, not stand here and argue over her. "But if they've taken Naboo, and you, Your Highness, then there is little hope of winning your planet back. Senator Amidala can't be of any help for you in the Senate. Has Master Yoda informed you as to which Jedi have been dispatched?"

She lowered her arms once more, sending a not-so-subtle glance at the Security Captain. She did hope her expertise would prove her case; that she was not in fact a Separatist spy, but rather a more-than-willing ally. But, of course as far as her luck would stretch, she was met with narrowing eyes. No, she hadn't managed to communicate her innocence.

"The Separatists?" Governor Bibble started to splutter. Ahsoka turned her gaze to his incredulous one. "Republic Fleet? _Senator_ Amidala? What madness are you whittling on with girl?"

The quiet shifting of the Queen caught her attention next as the remaining security force swooped in to surround her.

 _What?_ Her hands went up immediately, all the while her jaw working away. What was this?

"Count Dooku will not waste an opportunity to make Naboo Separatist Propaganda." Force knew she had had her fair share in that area recently.

A beat as the Security Captain came around her, taking the Queen's arm. Ahsoka watched his movements, practically feeling his unease seeping into the Force around them. "Your Highness, please." Ahsoka was near begging now, just feeling the Force hum in quiet caution around her. Something was coming.

However, there was only hesitation as the Queen spared a glance to the handmaiden on her immediate left… Ahsoka barely snatched a glimpse of the face beneath the flame-coloured hood, but it was all she needed. "Senator? _Padmé_ , it's me, Ahsoka."

It came out of her mouth before she could stop it, not seeing any immediate danger at voicing the truth — only a way to possibly remedy the situation in her favour. It didn't occur to her that if it _had_ been the Senator, then she would not be in this position. And then, why would Padmé be here, and not back on Coruscant where Ahsoka had last seen her, desperately attempting to clear her name? So, it somewhat wasn't much of a shock when all faces present turned on her, blasters aimed and fingers almost eager to pull the trigger. However, it became quite the shock when the igniting of a lightsaber caused her to jump — well, it would have if weren't for the burning heat suddenly at her neck.

"Interesting, that one trained in the Force as well as you, young one, claims not to be a Jedi."

 _Great._ She came close to crossing her arms with an indignant huff. _It's gonna be one of_ those _days._


	3. Jedi Master and Padawan

A splintering headache cracked through her head, rendering all other thoughts and concerns that weren't _'ow!'_ trivial. It shattered her equilibrium, and suddenly, she had a face-full of Nubian cobble stone and dust — there was grass here; a weed growing in the gutter snagged against her mouth. She barely registered the painful scrape against her knees and arms as she went down, now concentrating on stifling the stabbing pain in her head.

Words came to her, something along the lines of ' _What the?'_ and ' _Who is she?'_ before she felt another presence brush against her in the Force.

— _Calm your mind, young one. —_

It cut through all, piercing the agony and sending a resounding suggestion of _'calm'_ across her warring thoughts. The seething heat of pain began to recede, almost as if the gentle baritone had chased it away. A hand against her arm began to help her up, but as soon as the pain showed signs of slowing, Ahsoka had all but pushed the arm away and was once again on her feet, albeit still swaying. Instinct sent her hands to call on her lightsabers, only to feel the gentle tug of the Force at her hip. _Where—?_

Reality came crashing through her head as she focused on the Queen, the last half-hour once more burning in her mind's eye. _But who's—_

To accompany the Queen's entourage, there now seemed to be two Jedi standing before her. Narrowing her eyes, she glanced a padawan braid hanging down the second's shoulder. So this was a Master and Padawan duo.

Ahsoka frowned.

It was a strange pairing to send out to a situation such as this. And where were their clone troopers, and armour? To be honest, she was half expecting her own Master and Master Obi-Wan to come handle the situation, seeming as they did have previous with Naboo and that 'aggressive negotiating' they were fond of. If her memory served her correctly, it was a mission quite like this that landed Anakin to the Jedi. _The Jedi!_ Force, she had to tell them. They had to tell the Council. _Anakin!_

"Your Highness," The older of the pair began, folding his hands away in the sleeves of his robe. Ahsoka tried to beat the incredulous look that turned her head as the Master moved the conversation straight on from her. "We are the ambassadors for the Supreme Chancellor. And…" He spared a glance over his shoulder towards her, giving her another once-over. "You have nothing to fear from the girl. I sense no ill-will. However, your safety is our top priority. We best move you from this alleyway, hurry."

"Master Jedi," The Queen began as the taller Jedi accosted her arm. However, the Security Captain allowed the movement, instead opting to circle the handmaidens.

"Your negotiations have failed, Ambassador." Bibble huffed something fierce as Ahsoka all but watched the entourage rush past.

"The negotiations never took place." He answered with a pointed look over his shoulder, then his gaze wandered to Ahsoka again — who remained in place, watching them with that still-incredulous look washing her features. "Young one?" A brow was raised, as if to ask, _'are you joining us?'_

"Yes, Master." She murmured, jogging the short distance to join the now (thankfully) moving entourage. But it wasn't fast enough, not for Ahsoka. She needed to tell the Jedi _now_ , before something irreversible happened. She was on Naboo for a reason, but as far as Ahsoka was concerned, it was just an inconvenience. She needed to reach the Temple now. "We have to make contact with the Republic." She chimed in as the Master took two gigantic sweeping side steps that took the congregation down some obscure, winding staircase.

"They've knocked out all our communications." The Captain was saying, but at least he had answered her question — it was some form of acceptance of her on his part.

"Do you have transport?" The Master asked, all the while his eyes constantly scanning the surrounding area. Ahsoka also followed suite, eyes scouring the horizon for any sign of the familiar glint of clone armour. Where in the Force was their back-up? _You can't be telling me they came here alone. The Republic wouldn't be that stupid… would it?_

"In the main hangar. This way!" They took a dramatic left, the group now shimmering down a narrow path between two buildings. Ahsoka allowed the handmaidens to skim through first, counting them as they went just to make sure they had the right numbers and she wouldn't have to go back and rescue one from bullying battle droids. She'd counted ten when she'd first spotted them, and thankfully, ten went through the crack… including Padmé's convincing doppelgänger. When it came to the Captain's security team, she rolled her eyes as they and the padawan accompanying the mission all but shoved her through.

"Hey, watch it." She griped at one guard who'd pushed too far up against her hip. His apology was choked by the confined space, but they all emerged out the other side, relatively unscathed. As she stumbled out, she tried not to huff as she dusted herself off. Anakin would be sure to give her _the look_ if he caught her grumbling. _Hypocrite._

"Are you coming?" A voice, young and cultured, cut through her brooding and effectively put a stopper to the onslaught of apprehension threatening to spill over. Her head snapped to the owner, her heart nearly leaping from her chest. Somehow, she wasn't expecting the face of the padawan learner — rather, she had hoped for a glimpse of ginger beard and kind eyes peering down at her. Instead, she was caught in another bout of brief déjà vu — just like with the handmaiden before where she had seen the face of Padmé Amidala. This time, she thought she saw… _she could almost see_ … But that was impossible. Just insane.

_Get ahold of yourself, Ahsoka._

Tano shook her head, sprinting once more to catch up. She breathed a little easier when she also saw the security team lagging for a moment to ensure she caught up.

* * *

Alarms were blaring by the time they reached the Main Hangar. The Queen's entourage and security force pushed along, but the Captain and two Jedi came to a stop before the double doors. Ahsoka eyed them and then their Royal Escort, particularly the Queen's outrageously-shaped attire. _Great. Let's hope we're not stuck sneaking through an air vent. We would be if this were Anakin's mission — or slicing our way through the doors. That's always another popular option_. Three years on the frontline and begrudgingly an escort to more than one diplomat, had ensured instincts within her that saw Ahsoka circling the small group of handmaidens and their Queen, all the while willing them all to go faster.

"How are we getting in?" She asked aloud — was it her imagination, or were the alarms getting louder — _closer?_

The Security Captain crossed to the doors in record time, a small group following him, and together they managed to pry the doors open. Ahsoka nodded her approval, catching the eye of the padawan momentarily. The young man's eyes were quickly darting away. However, Ahsoka's lingered a moment too long. She just couldn't quieten the feeling that she _knew_ that face. A name escaped her… To be honest, the only name that came to mind was completely impossible.

"There are at least _fifty_ battle droids in there." The Captain was saying, dragging her attention back to the situation at hand. That number alone had her reaching for her lightsabers… only to pull up short and reach around the back for the blasters secured there. She mentally chastised herself for forgetting once again. However, unbeknownst to her, grey eyes watched her fumble.

"There are too many of them." The Captain was again shaking his head, taking a step closer to his Queen. Ahsoka's eyes tracked the movement, and again, she was drawn to the handmaiden beside the Queen. _Must be distant relatives or something._

"That won't be a problem." The Jedi Master swooped past him, turning to the Queen. "Your Highness, under the circumstances, I suggest you come to Coruscant with us."

That idea startled a whirlwind of objection and spluttering from Senator Bibble. However, it was his Queen that calmed his inevitable outburst. "Thank you, Ambassador, but my place is here with my people."

"They will kill you if you stay."

"They wouldn't dare." The Governor fumed.

With a pointed look, the Captain finished his line of argument. "They need her to sign a treaty to make this invasion of their's legal. They can't afford to kill her."

Ahsoka followed the verbal volley, her head beginning to shake. This situation was beginning to sound familiar. Well, not overly familiar, but she had heard something like this from both Anakin and Padmé once. The Trade Federation had invaded Naboo, and the Queen was forced to flee and plead her case to the Senate. When bureaucracy failed, Senator Amidala had won her planet back herself with the help of the Gungan Army and two Jedi. It was the mission that brought Anakin to the Temple, under Master Obi-Wan. She knew there was some dispute over his training, and a lot of people died… Just maybe not in that particular order.

"The situation here is not what it seems. There is something else behind all this, Your Highness. There is no logic in the Federation's move here. My feelings tell me they will destroy you." The Jedi Master said.

 _No._ Ahsoka's eyes shot to the Jedi Master. _The Federation? Wait…_

"Please, Your Highness, reconsider. Our only hope is for the Senate to side with us... Senator Palpatine will need your help." Sio Bibble turned to his Queen. _Well, that's a complete 180 degree transformation if I ever did see one._ A beat. _But the Federation?_ Senator _Palpatine? Don't tell me there's a blockade here as well._

 _"_ Getting past their blockade is impossible, Your Highness. " _Yeah, great. Thanks for that Captain. "_ Any attempt to escape will — "

"There yousa went! Mesa were lookin' all over for yousa!"

_Oh, you've got to be kidding me._

The entire group turned as one to the new arrival. Ahsoka's eyes grew wide as _Jar Jar Binks_ stumbled towards them, his head constantly turning in fear of incoming droids or blaster fire. How he managed to make it through the city _alive_ , and then find them _still alive_ was beyond her. Well, no, if she were to be honest, it always seemed the bumbling diplomat had something up his sleeve. The question was whether he did so purposefully, or the Gods just smiled down on him.

Ahsoka raised a brow as she turned back to the group. She caught the eye of the padawan who she sensed a groan from. He turned away, his eyes dropping to the ground almost as if pleading with the cobble, asking _why_ the Diplomat was now with them again.

But it was Representative Binks. Jar Jar Binks now stood before them, Ahsoka was sure.

And it was the final nail in the hypothetical coffin.

_Oh… Sithspits._

_"_ Jar Jar… Get over here." With a ruffled flourish of his robe, the Jedi Master…

 _It's him, isn't it. Master Jinn, I mean._ Ahsoka took a step back, trying to calm her sinking heart. _This is impossible._ Flashes, ever-so-brief, provided a face and a feeling of _warmth_ to accompany the name. These weren't her memories.

"Okidae! Mesa comin', mesa comin'!" The gungan joined the steadily growing number of outlaws, Master Qui-Gon not-so-subtly _h_ _arrumphing_ as their unwanted charge scampered to his side.

"Now that we are all here," Master Jinn sent a pointed look sent in Jar Jar's direction. Ahsoka bit her lip. "Your Highness, if we are to leave, it must be now."

With no outward sign of emotion, the… _it's a decoy, isn't it._ Ahsoka sighed. _The Queen_ turned to her handmaiden… _Padmé. I knew something wasn't right._ Anxious eyes met.

"Either choice presents a great risk...to all of us…"

"We are brave, Your Highness." The young woman beneath the hood flashed serious eyes at her decoy. _That's definitely Padmé._ A beat. _But this is all completely impossible._ Ahsoka curled her lip. _Unless I'm still in that damn vision._ A moment of madness saw her begin to pat herself down — and then stop, feeling eyes on her. She looked up, meeting grey eyes that she had stared into many times before. _She herself_ had stared out of those eyes.

A pulsing began in the back of her head, not unlike the episode Master Qui-Gon had just pulled her from.

_~A flash of red and black. A lightsaber through the abdomen. A blur of heat and pain. An itch to kill him. Destroy him! ~_

Her breathing began to quicken, her concentration now entirely pulled from the hasty conversation before her. Grey eyes still bore into her, not wanting to look away.

 _I'm sorry._ Ahsoka shook her head, unable to tear her gaze away for a breath. But then they were moving, and so was the padawan. It wasn't instinct that saw her falling into step behind him, surely.

The entire entourage entered the hangar, save the governor and a few handmaidens who remained beside the doors. Ahsoka remained slotted behind the Jedi in front of her, adamant on ignoring the oncoming wave of heat threatening to throw her down. _Come on. Concentrate!_ However, ignoring and hoping it would go away and facing the reality of her rapidly wavering equilibrium were two opposing matters. Ahsoka bit down on her tongue as she fumbled with her blasters in hand.

 _If this is a vision, the others pale in comparison in terms of reality._ Everything was just… too real. The hangar, the rolling hills of Naboo beyond the doors, the air; the sweet smell of Ninper berries and the early morning dew that hadn't quite evaporated yet… it mixed with the smell of engine oil and cruiser-fuel… this just couldn't be a vision.

Ahsoka came to a stop in the middle of the hangar, not solely the building pain in her head bringing her to falter. She was in the past. Roughly _thirteen_ _years_ in the past.

It was impossible.

 _Yet here you stand._ A voice swirled through her head. The abrupt intrusion brushed against her face and mind, providing a momentary pause to the building headache. Ahsoka blinked.

"Someone needs to free those pilots." The Captain spoke up, an indirect gesture avoiding the attention of the guards. Ahsoka pursed her lips, her hands tightening around the blasters in hand.

"I'll take care of that." Not one, but two voices spoke in unison, the owners' of said voices nearly colliding as they broke away. The awkward moment was excused with a clearing of the throat from the older padawan, and a curt ' _sorry'_ from the smaller. They were quickly moving on towards the pilots, whose eyes danced in both confusion and anticipation at the unexpected sight of two Jedi calming striding down the length of the hangar.

In her peripheral vision, she saw Master Jinn ( _Force…_ ) arrive at the cruiser, a handful of guards there to meet them. A belated moment saw Ahsoka waiting for the man beside her to signal the attack, as habit would have her do.

The igniting of a lightsaber, the disgruntled, robotic shriek of a battle droid, and then the familiar sound of blaster-fire raining down. Her accomplice came to life with an ostentatious twirl, the igniting of his 'saber whirring her into action. Two droids went down, the pilots stealing their opportunity and jumping upwards.

"Go!" Ahsoka wasn't sure which one of them yelled the order, but the pilots charged off towards the ship. Between the shots, she caught a glimpse of Master Jinn handling his own against a battalion across the hangar.

Another three droids cornered her attention, all sliced in half by the edge of a blade. She shot another several droids coming their way, throwing a pilot down who'd managed to stumble in the way. Not missing a beat, Ahsoka pulled her back to her feet and sent her on her way. Together, the two Jedi (a loose term in regards to one) angled back towards the cruiser, the engines now burning. A hum of blue and bolts of red covered the escaping entourage.

Ahsoka was about to break away — her partner could more than certainly handle himself. However, her eyes chanced upon an… _unsettling_ number of droids heading their way from the doorway. _Here comes the backup_. Her eyes flickered back to her companion. Gritting her teeth, she knew he hadn't noticed.

"Obi-Wan!" She called, catching his attention as blaster fire began to rain down upon the ramp… Until the sudden whirl of blue sent every blast back. There were too many to simply stop… so, with Obi-Wan's cover, Ahsoka called on the Force, sending the first wave of droids spiralling backward into the second. It was the moment's hesitation they needed. She started up the ramp, noticing a blur of green finally come rushing down the ramp to help… Ahsoka sighed, pushing on the body next to her.

"Come on!" No further instruction was needed.

However, she never made it up the ramp. With a shattering cry that twisted her back, her knees smashed into the durasteel below. A brief moment of contact — a brief brush of her hand against — was all it took to send her down. Here it was, the pain she thought she'd managed to stifle. It ripped up through her middle and then exploded in her chest as blistering heat. Hands clambered at her sides, but she barely registered it past the pain now consuming her body whole.

"Get her up!" Someone shouted, and she screamed. No, no. It wasn't her who screamed. Someone else did. A resounding yell that broke her heart in two. _Anakin… Chosen One… Destroy the Sith… Why join them? I loved you…_

It was cold in Master Jinn's arms. 


	4. Elusive Truths

It was ominously… _calm_ when she felt herself stir from the nothingness. Unaided by a Master this time, Ahsoka came too, her breaths steady and her body unusually peaceful. Her mind too seemed to follow this trend as blinking eyes brought into focus the world around her. Well, if her eyes had adjusted properly, the _room_ around her. The familiar hum of hyperdrive engines placed her on the chrome Nubian cruiser they'd fled on. The lights had been set to only faintly dust the room, and the result was a soft illumination of the beige walls... and a blinding white pouring in from the now open doors. Ahsoka blinked.

"You're awake."

A voice spoke now, sounding from the doorway. A figure haloed by light stood in the entrance to the room, every feature hidden by shadow. However, the voice struck an eerie chord within her.

"You know, I don't feel it." It seemed her throat hadn't survived unscathed, as raucous coughs brought her upright. _Figures._ The silhouette moved from the doorway, his sudden presence in the room bringing the lights to a more reasonable — _visible_ degree of illumination. Ahsoka blinked as Obi-Wan Kenobi ( _can't be…)_ came to stand beside the gurney she had been placed on.

"Try not to move so much. Master Qui-Gon placed you in a healing trance." A beat brought him to her side. "You're not actually meant to be awake yet." From the folds of his robe, his hand pressed to her arm — a slight twinge of discomfort. "You're alright." The soft platitudes were muttered out just as Ahsoka felt a cool caress flow from the point of contact. The Force streamed gently between the two. The slight prickling sensation brought by his robe against her arm seemed to strangely balance the sensation. She just hoped her utter bewilderment at the situation wasn't read as something to be cautious of.

 _For kriff's sake. I'm thirteen years in the past. What_ isn't _there to be cautious of?_

And then his gaze met hers… And she was sure her eyes were the size of dinner plates. She blinked away.

"How do you feel?" The hand was suddenly gone, and along with it the gentle flow of the Force.

"Alright, I guess." _Other than a bit weirded out by the fact that you're roughly twenty-something, and not forty… two? I don't know._

"Well, that's certainly somewhere to start." He stood back as Ahsoka began shifting her weight. With one fluid movement, she was on her feet. The ground seemed to sway beneath her though, her hands grappling for the shifting gurney.

"Whoa…" She gasped out, hands flying to her head.

"Easy…" When she couldn't stop the spinning, hands came flying out from oversized sleeves to steady her. "How about, not so fast? There's no need to rush… you'll end up on the floor at this rate."

"Yeah," Ahsoka croaked out, allowing him to walk her to a nearby chair. "Thanks, Master Kenobi." Her head was still spinning — quite the reverse of how she had awoken. Perhaps it was the remnants of the healing trance that had given her a brief high on serenity. Now, she could barely drag her feet.

"Master Qui-Gon will be here soon." He began shifting beside her, and she watched him pull the robe further around himself, now wielding it as some kind of physical barrier between them. What had she — _Master Kenobi._ She'd called him—

"Obi-Wan?"

Suddenly he was up from his haunches, instead regathering the sleeves of his robe at the sound of his Master's voice. Ahsoka's focus shifted to the doorway, barely making out a towering figure moving through.

"Master. You were right. The girl is awake."

Master Qui-Gon stopped before them, a hand to his padawan's shoulder before he turned to the _girl_ at the medic's station. Ahsoka met his gaze, somewhat surprised to see a note of warmth gazing back.

"And how are you feeling, young one?"

"Like I've just jumped off the top of the Te—" She stopped herself, a twinge of warning curling her fists. A sudden flash of panic saw her correct herself with a metaphorical slap. "— off the top of the Senate Building."

"That was quite an episode you had." And suddenly, he was before her. If he had any inkling towards her oncoming barrage of lies (which she was sure he did), his gentle expression hid his suspicions carefully. "I was expecting you to be out for longer." He stopped, now gesturing to his padawan. "You somehow managed to render my apprentice unconscious for a good hour."

Ahsoka's eyes went wide, sparing a fleeting glance at Obi-Wan before she was turning away from them both. "It was an accident. I don't —"

A strangled moment crinkled her nose. Perhaps she was waiting for Master Qui-Gon to jump in to complete her explanation — when concocting some sort of lie, it was usually best to let others provide their own logic to the situation and play along with _that_. However, as the Master's eyes refused to look away, and she could almost sense the gentle suggestion to continue, Ahsoka swallowed.

"Perhaps you could explain why a dispossessed Jedi Padawan was in the middle of a deserted city on an occupied planet." Master Qui-Gon raised a brow. Ahsoka began to stumble over words that refused to come, but it seemed Master Qui-Gon was willing to crouch and wait for her answer. _Damn him._

"Master, what if I told you I had been standing at the bottom of the Temple's steps on Coruscant before I woke here?" _Thirteen years in the past and with a vision of an_ impossible _future._

"If that is the agreed truth for now… It still doesn't explain why you'd be without a lightsaber…" He reached a large hand upwards, towards the side of her head where the length of her padawan beads had once been dangling. She could still feel the phantom brush of them if she turned her head too fast. "Or why you would be without your beads."

_Yeah, this is going to be fun to explain._

Master Qui-Gon's fingers barely ghosted over the remnants of her training before his hands were again enclosed in the considerable length of his sleeves. But the action alone — a master reaching for her beads — had her flinching back. The last time someone had reached there, the beads had been ripped from her headdress, the sickening ' _snap!'_ and painful wrench still fresh in her mind. Her jaw clenched, the grounding of her teeth almost audible.

"I can't tell you much, Master Jinn. Only because… I'm not quite sure what to make of it myself."

"That may be so." With a note of finality, the Master was suddenly tall once more, taking a step away from her. Ahsoka followed his movements. "But I sense there is more here than you are willing to share, little one." Qui-Gon spared his own padawan a glance. "But perhaps your name might not be so hard."

Ahsoka smiled despite herself… But then it drained. This was only thirteen years in the past. She was currently seventeen, nearing eighteen. She had been three-years-old when Master Plo brought her to the Temple. As she quickly did the mental math, her name seemed to be leaving her mouth on its own volition. "Ahsoka Tano, Master."

_Oh… Great._

"Well, Padawan Tano, it's a pleasure to meet you, never mind how… dubious the situation seems. I am Master Qui-Gon Jinn." He gestured once more to his padawan, a smile gently curving his lip. "And this is my padawan learner, Obi-Wan Kenobi."

While she had been expecting it, the confirmation of the truth had her heart sinking slightly. She truly was thirteen years in the past. It seemed only the Force knew why, but she had a strong suspicion it had something to do with a particular vision _that the Jedi need to know about._

She had to reign in her thoughts; she had to properly introduce herself.

"A pleasure, Padawan Kenobi." And with that conviction, she was pushing off the chair. This time the durasteel below didn't seem to take on a life of its own. Qui-Gon watched on as both padawans executed a bow, Obi-Wan's robes brushing the durasteel floor of the cruiser while Ahsoka gracefully swept upwards again. However, the mysterious padawan's mouth was open again before she had completed the action.

"Master Jinn. I haven't thanked you for vouching for me on the planet's surface."

"While I'm grateful you perceived it as such, I'm afraid your thanks may be misplaced, Padawan Tano." He lowered his head. "At the time, you were merely the lesser of two evils. However, " His eyes seemed to mellow. "Your confusion was clouding the Force around you. And your inability to stay on your feet without doubling over every two minutes speaks somewhat in your favour, Ahsoka."

There was definitely something further he wanted to add, but the slight hesitation at the end of his sentence told her that she wouldn't hear how his thoughts were meant to end. She would have to live with that. It seemed that here and now, she had established some form of trust between them. Ahsoka would make do… At least, until she figured out what the _kriff_ was going on.

* * *

Ahsoka found herself standing in the cockpit of the cruiser, staring out at the continuous flow of light that was hyperspace. Beside her, a pilot chowed down on a sandwich — an odd scene yes, but… there wasn't much else to do between hyperspace jumps. Shifts were swapped every four hours or so, and every pilot that came through seemed to sit and stare at schematics. Their only job was to ensure the ship didn't explode around them… or to prevent a rather shifty character from sabotaging the cruiser, successfully assassinating the Queen of Naboo.

Oh yes, she could see the way Captain Panaka kept staring.

Ahsoka heaved a sigh, the flourish of beeps and trills from the cockpit around her enveloping her frustration. She let it bleed into the Force… Who still hadn't provided much of an explanation on the entire matter. _Time travel?_ She'd never heard of it before. Well, neither had she believed that one day she would leave the Jedi, or be on the receiving end of a vision that should by-all-means frighten even Master Yoda.

Ahsoka shook her head, giving half a shrug.

Never mind her predilection for skepticism. Here she was, on route to Tatooine, running from the Trade Federation, harbouring knowledge of both the future and a foreseen hell. Anakin Skywalker, who Ahsoka wanted to so badly forget what she'd seen of his fate, waited for them on the sandy hell-hole.

… Which added another layer of complexity to her situation. Should she tell the Jedi _now?_ Would it be so bad to turn around and tell them everything — all of it? She was from thirteen years into the future, the padawan to a future Sith who had always been so _kind._ She was disenchanted with the Jedi — sacrificed by the Order she loved so much. She had foreseen a future where the Republic lay in ruins, destroyed by a man she trusted her very life with; trusted the _Republic_ with. All that it strived to protect. _Gone._ And still, she could not believe it, yet…

Here she stood.

If her presence here could be perceived as anything, then certainly it was confirmation that what she had seen was an inevitable future.

_Well, either that, or I've gone mad._

"Busy?"

Ahsoka smiled. She could certainly do with a break from only her anxiety and frustration for company. Turning away from the still chatting and chewing pilots (they had excluded her from the conversation, not that Ahsoka was overly interesting in socialising with them at this point), she came face to face with Obi-Wan Kenobi… and a steaming cup of tea.

_Force… What a sight._

"If you consider brooding and confusion as 'busy'… _thanks_." She smiled, crossing the small to him. He handed her the tea, pressing his lips together. Ahsoka saw the mild concern turn his brow. Taking a sip, she let the sweet taste be of some comfort.

"Perhaps you should meditate on your problems." His suggestion caused a marking to quirk. "Maybe you'll find your answers there."

She offered him no response except a mild huff — in frustration, contempt? Even she was unsure. Instead, Ahsoka passed him by, hoping he'd follow her as she left the cockpit. Unsurprisingly, he did. "You're right, of course." Finally she spoke, trying not to show the slight pang of anguish she felt. Master — _Padawan_ Kenobi was quickly by her side, both padawan and ex-padawan now winding their way through the ship. "Any idea as to where we're heading?" she asked, and he knew her meaning directly. Of course Ahsoka knew where they were headed, but it would surely prove suspicious if she began babbling on about Tatooine _without_ having asked about it first.

"You mean you haven't bothered to find out yet?"

She shot him a look at his incredulous tone. Obi-Wan's gaze darted away.

"No, to be honest with you, I get the sneaking suspicion the pilots don't really trust me enough to tell me."

"That might be because you appeared out of thin air in the middle of a mildly-troubling crisis." _Or so you say,_ were the unspoken words. Ahsoka nodded her head, casting her gaze to the floor. She took another sip of her tea. It occurred to her that it was certainly much sweeter than the usual teas her grandmaster stocked.

"I know you don't believe me, but— at least trust me. I mean no harm to the Queen. I only wish to see the situation resolved. Peacefully."

_Peacefully. Good one, Ahsoka._

"Ahsoka, you must understand. You did appear out of nowhere, blurting out things that made no sense… You harness the Force as though you were born to it, yet… you swore no allegiance to the Jedi."

How much had he heard? Ahsoka's mouth twitched, feeling the rising bubble of panic crawl up her throat. "Understanding that you _are_ a Jedi, your duplicity only serves to cast further doubt on your credibility."

Perhaps she should explain. _Explain that I left the Jedi Order? Only twenty Jedi have ever left the Order since its foundation. Oh yeah, my leaving will definitely earn their trust._

"Listen, Master—" His brows shot up. "—Padaw _— Obi-Wan._ " She bit down on her tongue. "I won't lie and tell you I'm not keeping anything from you, it's just —" she shook her head. "There are definitely things going on that I can't tell you about. And it's not because I'm plotting against anyone, or have ill-intentions directed towards anyone. I just… " She met his gaze, and only now did it seem to register to her that this was still the same Jedi… the same man she knew from the future. She'd shared his mind, his thoughts and feelings _—_ _his heartbreak_. She'd defeated Anakin on that embankment, she'd felt his world end. _He_ just didn't know it yet. And hadn't grown the beard yet.

_Prioritise Ahsoka._

However, as much as she may plead, she could still see the disbelief and doubt in his eyes. Dealing with Anakin was different to dealing with Master Kenobi. To be honest, more often than not she found Master Obi-Wan usually shared her opinions and thoughts on matters, whereas Anakin preferred to trust only what _Anakin_ thought.

So, to not have Master Kenobi's unspoken support… Ahsoka came to a stop in the middle of the corridor.

"How much _do_ you trust me?" Her eyes narrowed, her hands tightening around the mug in hand. However, it seemed that she had hit some nerve, for she swore, however brief, she felt a flicker of frustration seep into the Force around her. Obi-Wan swallowed hard, pressing his lips together before offering her an answer.

"Ahsoka, you managed to rescue the Queen singlehandedly _before_ we were able to. Both Master Jinn and I were mystified as to your presence. Needless to say your use of the Force and… _expertise_ in combat without a lightsaber speaks volumes of your Jedi training. However… you wield no lightsaber. Yet you have the mounts on your belt." He stepped closer, a casual hand gesturing to her waist. Ahsoka had the sudden urge to cover the incriminating evidence. "A double mount; which suggests a dual-bladed user. You identify as a padawan, yet have provided no master. While Master Qui-Gon and I barely picked up much after you rescued the Queen, what we did hear… You were adamant on your version of events, and then were surprised when you learnt the truth. Separatists? _Senator_ Amidala? Count _Dooku_ … You are a walking paradox, Ahsoka."

"In my defence, I still maintain that I mean no harm." 

"Ahsoka. You saw directly past the Queen'd façade, addressing her as _Senator_ Amidala. You knew my name _before_ we were introduced, and you continuously call me _Master_ before correcting yourself. How could you have no knowledge of what is happening, yet know and treat us like old friends?"

 _By the Light._ How could she forget how _Forcedamn_ observant Master Kenobi could be? He may only be twenty-something, but age seemed to be no hinderance in his case. One minor slip-up, and here she was.

"Then if you don't trust me, why are you still talking to me?" She paused for a moment, looking down. "Why'd you make me tea?"

That seemed to catch him. His gaze fell, his jaw working away. She could see the muscles pulse, the frown permeating across his features. She almost didn't want to know the answer to that question.

"It's not that I don't trust you,"

"I thought you'd just made it perfectly clear—"

"The Force seems to converge around you in a way I've never felt before."

"What do you mean…" She narrowed her eyes.

"Your presence… It's almost… Erratic." His gaze fell agin, his brow furrowing once more. "The way you feel in the Force, you don't sit conventionally."

"Basic, please."

Eyes shot up at her, _irked_ being the most prevalent word she could use to describe his expression. "When I first felt you in the Force, you were like a beacon. You were unstable. As if… fading in and out of existence. Initially I suspected it was poor shielding, but no, it was something else… _elusive_. And when you began to fit, you not only nearly took out Master Qui-Gon and me, but the Queen and her entire entourage as well."

Ahsoka's eyes widened. She hadn't heard that part of the story yet.

"The Force concentrated around you so powerfully that it affected even the non-Force-sensitives. Yet… Master Qui-Gon and I only sensed Light."

Her mounting headache seemed to ease at that. She let go of a breath she didn't know she'd been holding.

"The amount of confusion and panic you seem to exude is almost distracting, yes, but…" His gaze locked onto her's. "You are hiding something, many things I suspect. But am I right in presuming you won't say anything further until you have the answers you need?"

There must have been a note of agreement in her eyes, for the corners of his mouth quirked upwards. "Then perhaps meditation would help. I, for one, am very keen to hear your version of events." A... _cheeky_ (Ahsoka guffawed) brow rose, and then he was gone with a brisk bow. A sway of tan and brown robes, he started off in the opposite direction.

Ahsoka could sense his cheek from here. She wanted to frown, but the entire exchange made her middle tighten. It was nice to receive some form of light banter from someone, especially considering the entire week she had just lived. Finding herself accused of bombing the Temple, murdering a suspect, being expelled from the Order, finding herself on the run from the authorities, teaming up with Ventress, having her supposed best friend attempt to both frame _and_ murder her, being pronounced guilty and nearly sentenced to death…

Yes, and then find herself leaving the Order, not making it down the steps, caught in some apocalyptic vision, and _then_ find herself stuck thirteen years in the past? _You know, at this rate, I could be contending for the 'worst week ever'._

_Well, at least I'm still alive I suppose._

But joking aside, it was nice that someone seemed to be at some ease around her… Enough to make her tea and open up to her about his concern.

Yes, Ahsoka would go and meditate. While the truth may still elude her, it would at least offer some respite from the stress and worry of her situation. _Finding some answers might just be a bonus at this point._

 _"_ Oh, Ahsoka?" Her lekku brushed her chin as she swung around, Obi-Wan having stopped at the end of the corridor. "Tatooine."

She smiled.


	5. Padmé and Chronometers

_"Ani… You're breaking my heart…"_

_"You turned her against me!"_

_"Anakin! You were my brother!"_

_An anguished cry teared through the haze._

_"Obi-Wan… There is… is still good… in him."_

_A face… two faces, peering up at her past the fold of a robe. A beacon of hope — a mere glimmer… but tangible._

_Brown eyes drifted shut for the last time, breath no longer needed to sustain a heart that didn't want to beat._ Padmé. _And then there was nothing._

* * *

The sound of a door whooshing open rocked Ahsoka, her eyes flinching open at the abrupt end of her vision. She all but fell out of her arrangement, panic sending her legs striking out and arms barely catching her before she was one with the floor. And when her breathing finally began to calm, and the vision began to fade, Ahsoka glanced towards the ceiling… Only to have a bright, flame-coloured individual at the door catch her gaze.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know anyone was in here." she started, dipping her head and going to leave. 

_Padmé._ A smooth clatter of limbs, Ahsoka was away from the floor and straightening herself out. A smile meant to comfort crossed her face while she held up her palms. "No, please. It's no intrusion, Pad— _Your Highness_."

A hesitant bow was offered to Ahsoka, her own eyes meeting the uncertain gaze still hovering by the door.

"So you saw past the façade." Her small voice asked, her body slumping in slight defeat. But Ahsoka heard the note of defiance in her voice. "Or you're a spy."

The Togruta didn't need the Force to know there was a blaster tightly strapped to the Queen's thigh, easily in reach. Ahsoka herself had been disarmed sometime during her two-day trance in the make-shift Medical, but she didn't need blasters to defend herself. In fact, she doubted she would need to defend herself… _physically_ , that was. Verbally, however...

"Your Highness, I am no spy." Her brief flash of confidence though soon burst, and Ahsoka's hands came up to run along her arms. Turning away, she shook her head. "In fact, I'm not sure what my role here is. But I can assure you one thing." She turned back, again meeting those eyes… the eyes she had seen close for an eternity to come in her vision. "I don't mean you nor your people any harm. You have my word," instinct took over. "As a Jedi."

A moment passed that saw Padmé step away from the door. The cloth around her legs swayed silently as she took the few paces further into the room, the regality of a Queen seeming to exude from her presence. "You told my decoy that you were not a Jedi. Yet, here you stand and tell me you are." Her head inclined. "How do you expect me to trust you?"

Ahsoka's eyes fell, a hand coming to rest on her hip. "I don't expect a thing from you, Your Highness. However, you should know that I am harbouring no animosity towards you."

"Jedi Master Jinn fights your case," was the Queen's response. Ahsoka watched as, without a further word, she moved away to a nearby terminal. Hesitant feet brought Ahsoka forward a few steps, but a desire to not push the situation kept her relatively stationary. Instead, she watched from a distance as the young Queen pulled up the communications array. "My Security Captain wants to keep you under constant surveillance."

"I thought he already was." Ahsoka grumbled back. But it earned a modest chuckle from the Queen.

"Yes, he's definitely trying." A series of buttons and codes earned an unappreciative bleep from the terminal. "But your Master Jinn shooed him off when he tried to station a guard at the door."

A grin turned the corner of Ahsoka's mouth… And then the terminal bleeped again, this time earning a ' _damn_ ' from the Queen. Curiosity brought Ahsoka forward. "What are you trying to do?"

" _Trying_ obviously being the operative word here." Padmé heaved a sigh, attempting another string of buttons… but the ship wasn't giving an inch. "I wanted to see the communication's array… but it seems my own security force have locked me out."

"They wouldn't have on purpose, I'm sure." Ahsoka offered and the young Queen rose a brow. "They would have shut down all communications to ensure we couldn't be traced between jumps."

"That still doesn't explain why they've locked it _during_ hyperspace."

The terminal trilled again, almost taunting them. With a frown, Ahsoka bit down on her lip. Again, she looked to the Queen. To some extent, she could understand and certainly appreciate her situation — her people were in peril. Ahsoka's people had been placed in a similar — if worse — situation before. She, Masters Skywalker, Kenobi and Plo had barely managed to rescue the Colonists of Kiros before the worst had been dealt. So yes, she could understand the Queen's position. Adding that to her own understanding of Padmé's unwavering kindness —

"Hacking into the system should be easy enough." Hands reached for the panel, fingers eager to help as she stepped around the Queen. "If we don't tell anyone, it shouldn't be much of a problem. Just remind me to put the firewalls back in place once we're done." _Hmm... Basic enough. Just gotta get round the encryption... make sure the cockpit doesn't... and, "_ Hey presto."

Sure enough, a screen of red flickered to green, and a flash of blue brought the communications array to life. Ahsoka smiled, trying to hide the flicker of pride she felt, but as she turned back to Padmè beside her, her face paled to some degree. "They can't trace us in hyperspace. I'll put it all back up once you're done, I swear. If you don't trust me, you can have your Captain look at it."

But as Padmé's hand gently squeezed her arm, the display before them dancing in her eyes, Ahsoka nodded her head. She'd helped. That was always good.

"Thank you —?"

She was searching for a name. Ahsoka folded her arms. A humble grin and a gentle bow were offered in return, the disposition of a Jedi not easily abandoned. "Ahsoka, Your Highness. Ahsoka Tano."

"Yes, of course. Thank you, Ahsoka."

She dipped her head again, her montrals brushing against the enclave that housed the terminal. "You're welcome, Your Highness."

"And please, call me Padmé," their eyes met. "If only to keep the rouse up for a bit longer. It won't do to have you call me _Your Highness_ every time you address the handmaiden."

Ahsoka nodded he head, giving a lopsided smile in her amusement. Padmé, meantime, began scrolling through the bank of messages logged in the communication array. As Ahsoka read the codes attached to each, she couldn't help but give a hopeless sigh.

"They're mostly SOS messages and desperate pleas for help floating around the system." She voiced, receiving an equally dismal sigh from the young Queen.

"There's nothing we can do for them." Her sadness seemed to bleed into the Force. Ahsoka, with her height advantage, watched as Padmé's mouth set in a bleak line. While she could not see the Queen's eyes beneath the hood, her presence in the Force seemed to speak for her gaze. Unbearable sadness and utter helplessness.

Ahsoka's jaw set. She wanted to tell her that the Senate would help... that Supreme Chancellor Valorum would ensure that thousands of star systems would rally to Naboo's cause... but no. Padmé's — _her_ Padmé's recollection of the account still withstanding, the Senate had been of no help. She herself had won her planet back. So instead, Ahsoka considered her next statement carefully.

"I have faith in you, Padmé. If I have faith in anyone, it'd be you." she laughed, perhaps to cover the awkwardness of pledging her faith so earnestly to a practical stranger. But it was an empty laugh, one that carried her gaze away. _Faith in anyone... your husband._

_Anakin was married... is married. To be married?_

_He kills her._

"Thank you, Ahsoka." the girl smiled at her, but Ahsoka saw the minute change that ghosted over her expression, and knew what had caused it. Yes, perhaps it was strange to commit one's unwavering faith to a mere stranger, but Padmé was no stranger. She deserved the truth... when it could be spared. In a precarious situation like Ahsoka's, the truth was an elusive thing that could do more damage than good. But if anyone deserved encouragement more than herself in this situation, it was the young Queen of Naboo hidden away on a cruiser hurtling through deep space.

A plethora of imagery began to swim across her mind's eye. She saw an older face staring back at her; felt arms wrapping around her and encasing her in an overwhelming sense of warmth miles away from here. All those moments — they all made sense now. She had been Anakin's padawan _._ Ahsoka had been the surrogate daughter — _only_ daughter — that Padmé Naberrie-Skywalker had seen grow.

A vice gripped her heart. Bile rose in her throat, the unwanted vision of the birth of Padmé's children's taunting her. Red-rimmed, desperate but gentle eyes opened for the last time with a cry of pain, only to gasp a cruelly brief hello and goodbye before they slipped shut for a final time.

Ahsoka scurried to wipe a traitorous tear from her cheek as she turned away from the girl beside her. Her complete involvement in the screen before her meant she sensed nothing of Ahsoka's change — something the ex-padawan was more than glad for.

* * *

When Padmé had finished her scan of the communications array, and made a scene about the lack of media coverage on her planet's plight ("What does it mean ' _misunderstanding?'_ What isn't there to understand? This makes no sense, Ahsoka. The Trade Federation are overzealous, greedy businessmen who prey on…"), Ahsoka had rebuilt the firewalls and tidied-up encryption codes. ("Where did you learn to do that? I don't suppose the Jedi hand out lessons on decrypting standard Republic-based systems, do they?" "No, they don't." _A laugh._ "My master was a bit of a wiz when it came to anything technical. I picked up a thing or two.")

The pair had left the room, Padmé still brooding at the reports in hand. Ahsoka had been so caught up in the Queen's frustrated but emphatic rants that she failed to sense the rapidly approaching presence winding his way towards them. When she did, he was already rounding the corner. Momentary panic at being caught redhanded took over. Like a poor-paying patron avoiding the authorities, Ahsoka desperately nudged her partner's side. When disoriented eyes looked up from holonet reports, a ' _wha?'_ broken off by the approaching sight, the incriminating evidence was suddenly gone from her hands, instead shoved behind her back.

"Padawan Kenobi." Padmé said, perhaps a bit too suddenly considering the distance still between them.

"Handmaiden. Padawan Tano." His robes swept against the floor as he bowed in greeting. His gaze briefly elsewhere, Ahsoka felt Padmé's eyes on her. ' _Haven't you told him?'_ she seemed to ask.

_Gosh. He doesn't need me to tell him._

"I hope you are fairing well. How is your Queen?" The question was directed to Padmé, and at her briefly pressed lips, Ahsoka knew that she'd understood. He'd most likely been in audience with the 'Queen' all afternoon. _How are_ you _fairing, Your Highness?_

"She is obviously worried for her people, Jedi Kenobi. However, the hope and faith of a people fill her with much needed optimism." A glance was spared Ahsoka's way, and the Togruta felt her toes curl in her boots. _You're welcome, Senator._

"I am glad to hear this," A moment of true sincerity lined his tone. "But I am afraid I must drag your companion away." Padmé's head dropped, as if being admonished for having been caught with the supposed enemy. _It's Master Obi-Wan. He's probably one of only two — well, three now — people on this blasted ship who trust me._

"Of course, Padawan. Please, do not let me keep you." Padmé took a step back, her hands coming to rest in front of her. Unfortunately, the action brought the datapad into view. Obi-Wan's eyes didn't fail to lock onto the oddity, panic sending Ahsoka forward to take his arm. She was steering him away with a counterfeit smile.

"Thank you for your company, Padawan Tano." The Queen bowed her head before deftly transitioning into 'Padmé the Handmaiden' again and slipping away. Ahsoka mirrored the parting gesture before turning back to Obi-Wan… whose eyes seemed to dance with amusement as they walked away.

"What?" She was trying to quell the half-sided smile that was threatening, but as Obi-Wan's eyes met her's (all the mirth and humour palpable), she failed miserably. This was a side she'd rarely seen of him, swallowed up too early by the war.

"I hope she found what she was looking for. But I doubt she'd be too pleased with the holonet coverage she'll read."

Ahsoka felt her face flush, resisting the urge to scratch the back of her head. Instead, the durasteel floor they walked over suddenly seemed deeply interesting.

"And I hope you tidied up after yourself. Somehow I doubt you'll instil a lot of trust in Captain Panaka if he found you hacking around encryption codes like a seasoned code-breaker."

"Okay. I only wanted to help her. Everything's back in its place. You can go check yourself, if you like. I swear there is no way anyone can track us."

"Oh, I know." Their gazes met again, and suddenly Ahsoka wanted to wipe the teasing smile from his face. "I made sure after you finished up." Her brows shot downwards, her reaction eliciting a laugh from the padawan. "How else do you think she got access to the holonet? Forgive me, Ahsoka, but you can't expect me to sit idly by and let someone splice into the communications array."

 _You can't let someone like me hack into the communications array, s_ he wanted to correct him, but thought better of it. She knew, until she could explain her predicament, unwavering trust would not be so easily gained.

"I'm supposing you also checked to see that no message or code was sent off ship."

A moment of unwanted tension passed, filled with their near-silent steps. However, hers seemed to be the louder of the two, as would be expected with durasteel capping (a war zone did require more protection than a diplomatic bid to end trade embargos, after all).

"I had faith that you wouldn't." He had checked then. The way his tone levelled out, as if gravity had weighed down the statement. It wasn't solely an affirmation of a superficial hope, rather a glimmer of the validation that Ahsoka badly needed.

"Qui-Gon had faith you wouldn't."

...

"I didn't think my splicing skills were so bad that half the ship knows about it."

"Half the ship is on alert solely in regards to _you,_ Ahsoka."

That earned an empty laugh from the Togruta padawan.

"Which reminds me _—_ did you find any of the answers you were looking for?" They turned a corner, Ahsoka squeezing her eyes shut. The way her fists clenched offered Obi-Wan his answer. No, she had not. In fact, it seemed her confusion had only grown since he'd first suggested she meditate — of course, at Master Qui-Gon's suggestion.

"No. The Force is strangely… _quiet_ on why I'm here. I'm not meant to be here, yet…"

Obi-Wan raised a brow in her direction. "Yet?"

Ahsoka sighed heavily, a muscle in her jaw twitching. Obi-Wan could see the cogs whirring in her head. That was what most intrigued her to the two Jedi — she was more confusion and anxiety than malice or rage. Qui-Gon had only sensed Light, whereas Obi-Wan had been determined to catch _something._ He searched for any burgeoning sense of ambiguity, or any hint as to why she refused to share her version of events, but found nothing.

He'd be the first to admit that he wasn't proud of his dislike in the fact that she _wasn't_ a Federation spy, if he'd only come to this conclusion in order to provide her with a logical reason for being on Naboo. But yet again, where would the Federation get their hands on a Force sensitive trained in the arts of the Jedi? No, there was certainly more here than what lay upon the surface of the situation.

The question was, how long would this period of extreme patience and dodged questions last until Padawan Ahsoka Tano provided her version of events?

However, said padawan called his attention back with a sudden jerk of her head. A spark of curiosity ebbing through the Force (that might have been inclined towards confusion, if only because of her current state) loosely brushed against him.

"Where are you taking me?" she asked.

"Do you have any idea what time it is?"

At his question, she seemed to bristle. A half-hearted gesture brought her arm up, but with an inaudible sigh of defeat, she smiled mirthlessly. "Would you believe me if I told you my chronometer is completely out?"

"Hmm, what time is it by you?" It was trivial, really, something that shouldn't have mattered. Just another thing to add to the growing list of oddities surrounding Tano.

"Nearly midday."

"How about, try midnight."

"Oh boy." She was about to make comment on how unexpectedly long her meditation had been, until she realised she had no idea what time it'd been when she'd first found the room and sat down.

— Her stomach rumbled. The unruly sound earned a turned brow from her companion.

"Perhaps you should listen to your middle more often. It seems to know the time better than you do."

She made some half-attempted twisting motion in the hopes of turning her henpecked middle out of his line of ridicule, all the while her fists clenching at her sides. "Hey,"

"Come on." Obi-Wan chuckled, gesturing towards a nearby doorway. "The food onboard is thankfully edible."


	6. Sweat Teas

"Where is Master Jinn, anyway?"

A fork clattered around a near-empty plate — Obi-Wan was never really one for poached sliders, and he still hadn't figured out what green garnishing lay atop the modestly ( _poorly, really)_ prepared meat. His dinner companion, however. Well... he couldn't recall someone stuffing their mouth in such a fashion in recent memory ( _excluding Garen, of course)._

"Stop looking at me like that. I haven't eaten in nearly twenty-four hours. I'm starved." Another mouthful of that strange relish that tasted like Numa Eggs. "You gonna finish that?"

"At the rate you're going, I doubt I'd get a look in."

She offered no response except narrowing eyes. A smile played around the corners of his mouth as he pushed his plate across. An appreciative ' _thanks'_ was offered before she was finishing off his meal as well as her own.

"No, but seriously." She swallowed a mouthful. "Where is your Master?"

"Either meditating or asleep in our quarters."

It now being nearly past midnight, at such an early hour, they were utterly alone in the galley — save the odd pilot who ran in to pour themselves a hot cup of caf. They were still two days out from Tatooine, and now running dangerously low on power, but Obi-Wan trusted in the Force… and the computer's ability to calculate distance by power consumption. That was one dilemma that didn't need his attention. However, there were several more that demanded his scrutiny, such as the entire political situation on Naboo, that feeling of _danger_ lurking elsewhere that Qui-Gon so warned against bothering about — and the one that sat across from him, finally pushing her plates away. Blue eyes again narrowed in his direction, and once more he found himself wondering, not for the fourth time that sitting, what went on behind those keen eyes?

"He asked you to keep an eye on me, didn't he?" Her question caught him off guard. With a suppressed cough, he turned away. Ahsoka had her answer. Leaning back in her seat, a conspiratorial glint in her eye settled on him. "Strangely, I'm not so hurt by that. But why are you still up? You're not an insomniac."

Her use of an observation, rather than a question, earned her a flicker of interest. She too began to suppress a coughing fit. "I mean, from what I've… ah, seen so far… _from_ _you_ , I mean. Yeah, you don't strike me as the type to suffer from sleep insomnia." _Nicely done, Ahsoka. Nicely done._ Oddly, the reprimand had a lilting Skywalker cadence to it.

 _"_ Well, I hate to disappoint you Ahsoka, but I'm afraid I somewhat am."

 _Now_ that _is a surprise._ It came as quite a shock, only because she didn't suspect someone as calm and collected as Master Obi-Wan to suffer from sleep deprivation. No, in fact, he always seemed quite the advocate for sleep, if only to ensure the men had their rest. Her Master had always been the difficult one — until you managed to get him asleep, of course. Then he was out like a youngling, usually through his watch as well. She'd more than once kicked him awake on the surface of some inhospitable planet — she was sure Master Kenobi had as well.

"What's the remedy, then? A good cup of Orlong, or Hubriscus?" She smiled, recalling a particular memory of her master spitting out the bitter teas whenever Master Obi-Wan's back had been turned. ' _Disgusting.' 'It's not so bad, Skyguy.'_

"Force, have you been exchanging brews with Master Qui-Gon?"

Her jaw clamped shut. No, that was impossible. Master Obi-Wan _always_ had a cup of Orlong or Hubriscus in hand.

"You're joking, right?" She peered up at him past her brow-bones, searching for some inkling towards his deception. No, nothing but utter _disgust_ was directed towards the brews she had mentioned.

"Why would I joke about _tea_ , Ahsoka?" He'd taken offence, collecting his arms in the robes of her sleeves. He was shutting himself off again, and she guessed it wasn't solely just the talk of tea that was causing his retreat. Rather, it was her adamancy on his beverage preferences and shock at once again being proven incorrect.

"Alright," she raised a brow. "What tea _do_ you like then?"

He spared a glance to the door, and she had the faintest image of him perhaps sniffling somewhat, or running an unsure hand along the back of his head before formulating an answer. "Prenola or Julipa."

She was sure her snort reached the pilots in the next room over, even with the doors sealed shut and durasteal walls in between. "No way," In the attempt to calm herself, she stilted her breathing. However, as Obi-Wan's face seemed to drain of all humour, not even pressing her lips together would stop the oncoming giggles. A tear threatened to spill. "That's like finding out Master Windu has a penchant for anything fluffy." She saw her grandmaster's eyes narrow at her. "Sorry, sorry... but you like _sweet_ tea?"

 _Master Kenobi_ , Jedi General in the Republic Army, one half of the 'Dynamic Duo' and poster-boy for the Republic War Effort _liked_ sweet tea? What was next, Corellian Cake? _Stars,_ it was a travesty. Perhaps one that she may have found a _tad_ too amusing, but she couldn't imagine her grandmaster sipping on _Anakin's_ favourite brews and actually _enjoying_ it. Really, a teaspoon of honey was a staple is Master Obi-Wan's tea, but that was nothing compared to the threatening sugar coma given by simply _sampling_ a brew like Prenola or Julipa. _Gargh,_ even she had something against the sickly sweet taste Anakin seemed to crave.

"What's wrong with sweet tea?" If he didn't look offended before, the incredulity on his face leaning towards frustration only spurred on her fit... But she had to reign it in. It wouldn't do, no. She pressed her lips together, meeting his eyes over the short distance. He still looked utterly scandalised.

"Nothing, _nothing_ is wrong with liking sweet tea. Sorry," a beat. "But you?"

"Don't... don't start that again." His head began to shake on its own accord. She got the impression it wasn't even a conscious effort. "You're an enigma, Ahsoka."

"Yeah, alright. I'm sorry Obi-Wan," A lungful of air expelled, taking with it the sudden fit of giggles. "But after the week I've had." She added absentmindedly, but the sudden mood change was palpable. The temperature seemed to plummet around her, a dragging sensation tugging on his own mind. Her brows quirked upwards as her lips twisted in some imitation of dejection. His own expression reflected the sudden change in temperament.

"Why does it surprise you that I like sweet tea?" Obi-Wan asked.

It was a chance, and he wasn't one to simply miss an opportunity. Perhaps it was cruel to take advantage of her exhaustion, but she'd been slipping past their questions and enticing the suspicions of one irritable security captain for three days now. Each explanation she would've eventually provided was usually cut off by his own master, if only because he took pity on the disoriented padawan. It did fill Obi-Wan with some feeling of twisted mirth though, that they might uncover some sliver of the mystery that was Ahsoka Tano over talk of _tea._

Sure enough she yawned, a sleepy smile baring her teeth. "Well, my Master always hated bitter tea — it's the only thing you stocked until he was eleven, so I'm told. Nightmares, I think. Sure did find enough to complain about." She shrugged, her aside barely a whisper before she was once more inclining in her seat. Eyes wanted to flutter shut and let sleep wash over her. However, the literal _sensation_ of a mind churning brought her back up from the brief lapse, only to meet the questioning edge in his grey eyes.

" _I_ stocked until he was eleven? What are—"

_Oh no._

Ahsoka's eyes shot wide, all thoughts for sleep or rest gone. In the face of her minor slip-up — _Minor? How about you just tell him_ _everything_ _, Ahsoka?_

However, armed with a smile that was meant to appease, Ahsoka floundered over words that refused to come. In fact, Ahsoka was never given the chance to explain. Not as a familiar _spark_ jolted through her chest, and the Force began to reel.

_You were my brother, Anakin._

She blinked, sucking in a sharp lungful of air at the sudden intrusion.

"Ahsoka, are you alright?" Concerned eyes tried to find her's. A pain was now settling in the base of her stomach, a slow flame wanting to burn its way through everything. _No… Not again. Please._

"Ahsoka."

_~I hate you!~_

"No, stop!" The table gave a jutting start as Ahsoka pushed herself away from the offending surface. A shroud of brown and tan, Obi-Wan followed her movements. "Ahsoka."

"I can't —" Desperate hands shot to her head.

"Can't what? Ahsoka."

Unwanted images became a tidal wave of panic, all fire and fury. Her thoughts were shunted aside as she felt the sudden heat of the planet's surface burn up the arms beneath her tunic. The familiar curve of both her own and her once-padawan's lightsaber pushed into her palms; there was no relief to be found in the usually cool exterior of the weapon.

A shattered world, a burst bubble where she stood front and centre, facing the atrocity that was her brother — _her son._ His burning visage, blistering and scorched, screamed at her from the embankment. She existed in a realm where only two extremes of emotion could be felt. Hatred seemed to consume the Force, but she stood in a fading; _dying_ fabrication of love.

_I loved you._

_"Ahsoka!"_ The voice reached her past the hell of Mustafar. For a few disorienting moments, Ahsoka wondered why she could hear her ow— _Master Kenobi's_ voice shouting her name at what remained of Anakin, until…

 _He'd come back for her..._ He'd come to collect her from this horror. Her grandmaster.

"Master Obi-Wan?"

"Ahsoka, it's Obi-Wan."

"Master Kenobi." She muttered, an outstretched hand hoping to catch his. The tears burned against her face. However, the heat of the lava did nothing to warm the ice now freezing her heart.

" _Padawan_ Kenobi. Ahsoka, come back." Reluctant hands reached for her — he'd not forgotten the last time he'd brushed skin and skin with her. It'd taken an hour of meditating and a good cup of tea to bring his headache back down from Alderaan, and he had the perfect imprint of the hilt of his lightsaber across his hip, but still. It would take some time, more time than a recovering headache, to forget the image of Ahsoka's eyes wide and tracking unseen terrors in the distance. Obi-Wan clenched his jaw.

" _Blast,_ Ahsoka!" Hands clamped around her upper arms, and shook.

An instant intake of breath.

— then all went still.

" _Obi-Wan._ " It was so soft, barely a whisper as her eyes rolled away. With an unexpected hiccup, she fell forward… and it was all he could do to catch her before she fell. _Force._ She was unsurprisingly light, but still, he lowered her to the floor of the galley for the sake of both their backs. The engines of the ship seemed louder here, roaring through the structural work of the cruiser. Once again, the Force seemed to flare up around her — it'd be enough to wake Master Qui-Gon, surely. If not, he might have to do the honours himself.

Ever so carefully, he nursed her head into his lap, wondering how in the Force he was going to still her convulsing shoulders.

"Where's Ashla? Is she safe?" Rampant muttering turned into delicate questions, and Obi-Wan slowly lifted her head. Her entire body was a coil waiting to release, untapped energy spilling over into the Force around them.

The padawan shook his head. "Ahsoka, there's no _Ashla_ here."

Who was Ashla? Her master?

" _Luke._ Ask Luke... He'll know- _argh!_ " Her frightened whisper turned into a deafening shriek. Claw-like fingers dug into arms, unrelenting. Then a sudden pulse into the Force. Obi-Wan seethed, his head snapping away.

Another pulse, this time stronger.

An involuntary hand abandoned supporting her neck, instead coming to cradle his own head. The surge pummelled into him, beginning to needle away at his being. _No, not this again._ Bit by bit, almost as if peeling and flaking away, his presence in the Force began to decay. He shouldn't have touched her; shouldn't have been stupid enough to do this _again._

When he'd been far younger and far less experienced, he'd allowed himself to feel this kind of pain before. Obi-Wan Kenobi, for all his adherence to the Code and constant reprimanding of his own unorthodox master, knew how painful affairs of the heart could be. The pain raking up through his middle was somewhat akin to how he'd felt when he held the dying Cerasi on Melida/Daan. However, this time it not only bit away at his heart, but plummeted his whole being into the iciest depths of the deepest oceans and then took him to the scorching deserts of Jakku. There was nothing he could do for either of them, again.

The padawan toppled. He joined her on the floor, a whirlwind of hysteria clouding his perception of the Force. Blood lined his tongue, but it was unlikely he noticed.

"Anakin," He gasped, voice broken and grated by ancient sands. "Anakin has her."

* * *

When Qui-Gon (a blunder of partially assembled tunics and boots) finally found them, he was met with the sight of two Jedi padawans sprawled out on the cold floor of the galley. A small army of pilots had gathered behind him, probably bewildered by the sight of a haphazardly composed Jedi Master madly sprinting from one side of the ship to the other. Utter blankness had split his bond with Obi-Wan. But the stillness had followed after an explosion of agony, and Qui-Gon traced the muted cry for help on still sleep-laden legs until finally, he stumbled across the distressing scene.

For one heart-stopping moment, he'd thought his padawan had died.


	7. Comatose Padawans

_"Allow her time, Obi-Wan."_

_"But Master—"_

_"I sense there is more to the girl than is at first obvious."_

He'd wanted to protest; his master couldn't be so trusting in the face of what potential threat this new arrival could bring.

" _Reach out with your feelings, Obi-Wan. Do you sense darkness?"_

_"There is something… elsewhere… elusive, Master."_

_"But is it the girl?"_

He was right, of course. Obi-Wan had wanted to see the malicious side of the Force flowing unrestrained through her presence, but…

 _"No, Master."_ His head shot up though, not wanting to give in so easily; it was too dangerous, too easy to simply accept her. " _But she could be shielding. You said so yourself… there is more at play here than simply a trade dispute, Qui-Gon."_

" _I don't disagree with your assessment, Obi-Wan, but the girl is just as confused as we are."_ His master had taken a modest step forward. A hand emerged from the sleeves of his robe to settle on his shoulder while still-furrowed brows and cautious eyes met Qui-Gon's gaze. " _Perhaps more so. She is unstable in the Force, but have you sensed the change?"_

Obi-Wan nodded, turning away. _"Yes. Her Force Signature has gradually begun composing itself — it's no longer so volatile."_

 _"Precisely._ " A noticeable smile now turned the corner of his Master's lips, and the light was once more in his eye. " _I want you to keep an eye on her. After all… she seems to know you better than any of us."_

With all the subtlety of a bantha, Obi-Wan's eye's grew wide — so his master had noticed as well? _"You refer to her knowing my name_ before _proper introductions were made?"_

Qui-Gon gave an affirmative pat to his shoulder, but something else seemed to momentarily drift through his demeanour. Obi-Wan strained to sense what is was in the Force, but to no avail. " _As I said, there is more than likely a little more to her than what initial impressions would suggest."_

 _"A displaced padawan learner, millions of lightyears from the Temple, rambling on about political factions that seemingly don't exist, addressing the Queen as if old friends, and repeatedly calling me_ 'Master'? _'A little more' may be an understatement, Master."_

His quip earned a rueful smile from the older man. " _Yes Padawan, it seems so. For now, however, I'd ask you to keep an eye on her. Our top priority is the Queen's safety." He spared his apprentice a glance. "And while Ahsoka Tano may be a secondary consideration, she deserves our help as well."_

 _"Yes Master."_ He acknowledged his Master's disposition to help as well as his assent with a single nod as the pair headed for the galley. Between these new revelations and a growling tummy, Obi-Wan sent a hasty orison to the Force in the hopes that something or someone would hear… hopefully the cooks.

* * *

After what he estimated were several hours of waiting, if this were any other person, Qui-Gon would have simply sighed in defeat and perhaps found a comfortable corner to mediate in. However, the young man that lay prone in the narrow sleep-couch commanded his entire attention, and so Qui-Gon Jinn found himself mentally marking off another hour as he waited for his apprentice to awake.

He thanked the Force again for the chair he'd managed to pilfer from the Queen's chambers. The nail-biting waiting period was mercifully cushioned by the small comfort — He'd been kicked out of his own lodgings by their young charge, so it was either sneak in and _borrow_ a chair, or sit on the cold, hard floor.

No one had been around.

Obi-Wan's robe was tightly tucked beneath the padawan's chin and carefully smoothed over his sides. To all who cared to look, he seemed as peaceful as any other good night of sleep should warrant. However, Qui-Gon didn't need the Force to sense the distress his padawan's presence seemed to amass. The telling crease between his eyes, the hard line of his mouth… Obi-Wan was always a gentle, if light sleeper. So for him to be comatose for this long and showing no signs of emerging from his stupor… Qui-Gon was half-tempted to place him in a healing trance, as he had done for the young Tano hours previous. However, his want for Obi-Wan to awaken sooner rather than later won out, and so patiently he waited for his apprentice to find his own way back to consciousness.

"Master—" The sound of shifting sheets and a muffled cry snagged his attention. Qui-Gon's head whipped around to where the Togruta padawan lay sleeping, his hands falling away from his chin. "Anakin—" Her head fell to the side, face scrunching and markings now misshapen by her expression. "…Liam. No."

She kicked the robe aside that lay over her, and as Qui-Gon gradually got to his feet with a heavy sigh, she seemed to have found an adversary in his robe. Hands jutted out from beneath the brown material, desperately trying to bat, hit and rip it away.

"Ahsoka." He braced himself against the top of the bunk, bending his knees so he was close enough, but sufficiently distanced so any wayward limb couldn't break a nose. "Ahsoka."

She was heaving shallow breath in after breath with all the frailty of a dying man, suffocating on thin air. Her hands fought battles with the robe he had placed over her, and her tirade was showing no signs of lessening. Qui-Gon's brows furrowed together, instead opting to send a hand into her general vicinity. "Padawan Tano." He tried again, this time with a slight push into the Force. He had shielded himself from her quite early on in their brief acquaintance — After her initial collapse during first introductions, and then again during their escape, he had made a point of placing blocks between himself and her.

Unfortunately, he hadn't been able to sufficiently stretch those blocks to his padawan learner. The result of his failure now lay within the narrow sleep-couch opposite him, still soundly asleep.

_Oh, Obi-Wan._

Ahsoka's hands fit within his larger ones, and like a durasteel rod, his arm went still in the attempts to calm hers. After a few belated moments where only her panicked breathing drowned out mad, partially-assembled words, she began to still.

"Master?" The faint word met his ear. With an empty smile that seldom touched his lips, Qui-Gon rested her arms across her middle. As her breathing began to slow, and a moderate 'up, down' movement calmed her chest, Qui-Gon reached for his robe and effortlessly tucked it back around her. He moved back with a sigh.

"Perhaps you're more trouble than you're worth, young Ahsoka." He whispered to no one in particular. Of course, the statement was made in regards to his apprentice's current predicament, but Qui-Gon shook his head. There was more to her than what met the eye. The Living Force seemed to move around her in ways he had never experienced before (which was a feat, Qui-Gon liked to think he had a stronger communion with the Living Force than most Jedi.). It'd surprised him to learn that Obi-Wan had found the girl scrolling with the Queen through the communications bank. In all honesty, he hadn't expected the Nubian entourage to trust her, let alone the young Queen herself. But nonetheless, he'd watched over his apprentice's shoulder as the young man dropped the firewall around the holonet and began routing news feeds to the Queen's terminal.

_\- She won't like what she finds. -_

_\- But it'd be crueler to leave her in idle suspense, would it not Master? -_

Obi-Wan's kindness had won out, Qui-Gon putting a hand to his apprentice's shoulder before leaving him to his own devices. However, 'his own devices' were unfortunately synonymous with 'follow Master Qui-Gon's instructions', and so he eventually sort the girl out. Qui-Gon had, in all honesty, _stupidly_ forgotten to mention that caution should be exercised around the padawan. _After all, she has rendered him inert three times now._ However, Obi-Wan was nearing twenty-five — he'd hoped the young man would be wise enough to 'keep sufficient distance'.

Apparently not.

His own guilt wrung out his nerves. For the umpteenth time since he had camped himself in these cramped quarters, Qui-Gon sighed, expelling both a lungful of air and an unwanted amount of frustration into the Force. If his apprentice and unexpected charge didn't wake up soon, he would be forced to perform the task himself — he'd loathed to do it so far, but as Tatooine approached closer and closer, the more Qui-Gon needed Obi-Wan to be awake.

_Come on, Padawan._

"Master Qui-Gon?"

A soft voice broke through his brooding. Turning to the doorway, he didn't feel inclined to stand at her presence, if only at the assumed informality of the situation and, he supposed, her desire to continue the façade. It certainly wasn't because his padawan had collapsed with a strangled cry of pain and he couldn't find the patience within himself currently to entertain queens-turned-handmaidens. Nonetheless, he would not vent his frustrations on the first innocent who came knocking.

"Good morning, Handmaiden."

The young girl remained by the door, but her eyes briefly danced around the room before settling back on his.

"The Queen requests an update on Jedi Kenobi and Tano's wellbeing."

A curious brow quirked at the handmaiden's question, Qui-Gon taken aback somewhat by her worry. He'd spent most of the journey to Tatooine either in meditation or by the painted-monarch's side. He'd seen little of the almost featureless handmaiden, and perhaps would never have noticed the façade if his unexpected charge hadn't pointed it out.

That was until the Queen began surreptitiously asking indirect questions to her small entourage. Qui-Gon had stifled a grin when he'd finally discerned which handmaiden was truly the young royal.

"You can tell your Queen," he began, watching her eyes again glance over the opposing sleep couches. "That both Obi-Wan and Ahsoka will be well informed on the situation when they awake, and more than sufficiently prepared to continue with this mission."

Her eyes met his. Qui-Gon sighed. "They're just asleep, young one. No harm has befallen them." Again, he raised his arms and rested his chin on one hand. The course hair of his beard scratched against his knuckles while his unoccupied hand reached to smooth the robe back in place over Ahsoka's softly twitching form. However, the gentle ' _whoosh'_ of the door closing brought his attention away from his charge.

"I don't know the ways of the Force, Master Jinn," The girl began, the red of her sleeves softly inclining by her sides. "But even I felt something when your padawan and Ahsoka fell." Something serious and cold coursed through her then, her gaze almost glacial when it met his again. "Ambassador, while I may be unfortunately ignorant in regards to the ways of the Jedi, these episodes continually place my party in a difficult situation." And then, as though a switch had been hit, or a branch had been snapped from behind, she fell out of the Queen's formalities with a start.

The way her eyes shifted and her hands twitched, Qui-Gon could see her defeat. What remained of her mask had been shattered by the outburst. "Captain Panaka wishes me to inform you that he is not pleased with current security arrangements regarding Jedi Tano," Her jaw set. "I, however—"

— it was a statement she'd never complete how she would have liked. "Ensure that they are well rested. If you require anything, Master Jinn," a head was dipped in his direction, "Only ask."

A smile quirked the Jedi Master's lips, her parting gesture offered in return. The Queen's kindness served to shock him to some extent, but… she was the young sovereign of a diplomatic state. Her kindness and compassion and unwavering determination would certainly have had a hand in her election.

"Thank you, Handmaiden. And inform your Queen that she has our most humble gratitude."

"Of course. Ambassador." And with a simple bow, she was gone from the room. Once she had passed through the closing doors, Qui-Gon fought off a sigh — he himself would have to begin preparations for the approach. Perhaps meditation would be a welcomed distraction at this stage.

Ensuring Ahsoka was comfortable with a tentative hand, and sparing a final glance to his still comatose padawan, Qui-Gon sunk to knees in the centre of the cramped room. Sinking further and further, he reached into the tranquil dominion encircling him.


	8. Home

The Force seemed to flow here with the power of gale force winds. It wracked against her body and swept through her as though she were a bridge of sand, quickly waning in a fast-flowing river. _Ahsoka!_ Someone called out for her. Ahsoka swung around, finding the familiar hum of her lightsabers roaring to life in her hands.

Yellow eyes met hers. The youthful line and familiar contour of his face told her who he was, while his soul remained truly unrecognisable. "Anakin!"

"They betrayed you, Ahsoka."

She was breathing heavily now. The sound of his usual tenor was lost in the gravelled tone now calling her. She schooled her thrashing heart with a gentle breath.

"Anakin, you betrayed _them._ " she spat. Her response was not taken lightly, though. She saw his mood shift again, as mercurial as ever.

"They betrayed us _all,_ Ahsoka. We meant nothing to them," His eyes squeezed shut, and she could picture him standing beneath the colossal pillars of the Temple again, hinting towards his inability to live the life — _the lie_ — of a Jedi for much longer. " _You_ meant nothing to them." A single step brought him closer. "But not to me."

If she had been shocked when she'd first viewed his visage, tattered and torn and ultimately _crushed_ , then to see a hand reaching for her; the hand of her master beckoning her home— she almost slipped her hand into his. Not because it would be easy to accept and seep into the Darkness; not because Anakin had asked her to… But it was a chance, so small and oblique, to save him. To pull him into the light and never let go.

Her hand clamped around his, her grip so tight that she could _feel_ the bones in Anakin's hand shift. In his momentary shock, Ahsoka all but hauled him away, falling and tumbling, waiting for the Light to engulf them both.

His hand slipped from hers, the Light barely beginning to wrap around them both in tendrils. The wind was like sand whipping around them, obscuring her vision. But still, her fingers desperately attempted to brush against his — " _No!"_ She wouldn't let him, would _not_ let him go.

"ANAKIN!"

* * *

"ANAKIN!"

Ahsoka shot upwards, a hand plunging outwards to reach for a ghost. Instead, she found her head almost colliding with the low roof above her, and the blanket around her all but tying her to the sleep-couch she was in. A moment of clearheadedness was a blessing as she blinked bleary eyes around the tiny room.

 _I've gotta stop doing that._ The hand that had moments ago been wrapped around her master's reached up to rub her montrals — not that they were sore, but the sheer _jitteriness_ of her nightmare left both her head and heart reeling.

Someone needed to know about these visions. If every time conversation was struck up about her past she'd on cue topple unconscious, then she needed answers. Answers from _anyone._

 _Just give me a reason, please._ Ahsoka bit her lip, knowing it was a pathetic, last-ditch-attempt to muster some sort of response from the Force. So far, the omnipotent presence hadn't given her much explanation as to _why_ it had sent her back, only that it _had_ … And saw fit to continually remind her of such happenings by knocking her unconscious with an unstoppable wave of pain every-so-often.

Ahsoka cringed, the phantom pain in her middle still fresh in her mind.

Like the Queen, she couldn't keep her façade up for long. It was going to be impossible — especially now — without further enticing the doubt of her companions.

_I want to go back._

The feeble plea was interrupted by a gut-wrenching cry.

Instinct alone sent Ahsoka soaring to her feet, nimble limbs aligning themselves defensively. While the movement was hard to follow through in the cramped space, such close quarters forced her gaze down upon the only other occupant in the room. She swallowed past the sudden worry in her throat.

"Obi-Wan."

A wave of gentleness directed her movements as she came to hover next to him — undoubtedly, she had put him in this state. If her mental math was correct, this was the third time she had rendered him unconscious. Why he was the sole recipient of that honour, she could only guess. Whether it was the fact that he was the only Force-sensitive within close proximity every time it happened, or the Force registered her corrupting her own time stream somehow, she didn't know.

Yet again, all these bouts of Force-induced fits could be the result of her vision.

But there was something else, some other option that whispered ever so faintly behind her, she almost made to brush it away. She could almost feel the breath of whispered, impossible promises against the curve of her montral. Ahsoka didn't like the sound nor connotations of what she heard. She shunted the voice aside.

"Obi-Wan." A gentle gloved hand came to rest on his shoulder. He'd managed to work himself out of the robe draped over him, Ahsoka sparing a glance to her own bawled up at the end of the bed. While it seemed trivial, she couldn't help but notice how the robe covered every inch of the older padawan, tucked around the young man and beneath his pillow (probably in an attempt to stop what was happening now). There was almost something _loving_ in the way the Force curled around him, the barest trace of the suggestion, but still readable to the once-Jedi. A smile ghosted her lips as fingers smoothed the robe back into place in an attempt to replicate the careful attention to detail only a parental eye could gauge.

"Obi-Wan." His head tossed. She didn't want to touch him, purely out of the fear she'd encourage another episode. But as his brows furrowed further and the gentle line between his brows deepened, Ahsoka sighed past her inhibitions. She placed a hand against his temple.

Nothing.

Well, nothing in comparison to what she'd been expecting. She hadn't dropped to the floor yet, convulsing and billions of miles from here. Instead, she gained a generous scope of the Force around him.

It swarmed in Darkness.

"Obi-Wan." She gripped both his shoulders now, shaking hard. "Master!"

Somewhere in her panic, she sensed his consciousness gently swirling from the maelstrom surrounding him. _Come on._

With one final plunge into the Force, grey eyes were open, blinking at her. She searched his face, her hands still gripping his shoulders. Perhaps she expected some sarcastic greeting, inquiring as to why she looked as though she'd seen a ghost. Some part of her flinched — he wouldn't be far from the truth there.

However, Obi-Wan frowned up at her. "Who is he?"

... It was her turn to blink at him. A groggy voice found its bearings, and continued. "And why are you so frightened of him?"

There was no need to ask him for context to such a vague question.

She fell away, her back coming to settle against the side of his sleep-couch. The chill of the durasteel board pressed into her bare back, seeming to encourage the overall glacial chill now settling through her. Involuntary hands came up to rub at her arms in the attempts to offer herself some comfort against the rising chill.

He'd seen her dreams. He'd seen _Anakin._ _Vader_ _._ The name tasted horrible, _bitter_ in her mouth, but the Force was adamant in the title it bestowed.

Ahsoka shivered. "He's not yours to worry over." It was a broken reply offered half-heartedly, she knew. He would be; Anakin would be his to worry over — all too soon. She felt, more than saw Obi-Wan gently rise off the sleep-couch. Tired, blue eyes turned away as socked feet and tan trousers slipped into view beside her.

"Ahsoka…"

She bit her lip.

"I can't begin to imagine the full extent of these visions that have been plaguing you, but…"

Shame flooded through her then, her gaze still tightly-locked on the sleep-couch she had been in mere minutes ago. With an impassiveness that seemed utterly alien to her, her eyes settled on what could only be Master Qui-Gon's robe at the end of the bed.

"Ahsoka, you're hiding something from us... And its slowly tearing you apart. What I saw..." Quiet movements brought him off the bed, and she heard the near-inaudible click of his knees as he bent down to eye-level. She didn't want to stare into those eyes. The last time she had felt this helpless and turned her gaze amongst the crowds in search of the familiar blue-grey… She'd met the stoic gaze of an impassive face. Even suspended above the congregation, while Tarkin and the Chancellor condemned her as impossible things; _cold, traitor, killer…_ She could sense the steel in place of the usual comfort she'd so badly wanted — he condemned her that day along with the rest of the Council and Republic.

Ahsoka swallowed.

"Who _are_ you?" Was what fell from his mouth; what pulled her from her memories. A sudden hardness, _coldness_ crept into her then, further freezing the staunched fires within. She wanted to ask who _he_ was to sit there and denounce her so easily — but then she relented. Her head dropped. He was the Council's darling; the _perfect_ Jedi so many wanted to be. _Detached._ She'd been a pawn, like so many. A piece that could be so easily moved around a Dejarik board and equally as easy to sacrifice.

Well, not this time.

Her eyes narrowed, the fires once again stoked and ready to burn. She nearly spat it at him, she wanted to so badly — to make him see his failure; his inability to simply _understand._

Anakin's face seemed to rage along side her heart. Her lips curled in anger.

—

A sudden burst of wind — a wall of ice — fell over her, drenching the fires that wanted to consume the young man beside her and everything else. She sucked in a breath, falling forward. Heaving in another lungful of air, Ahsoka all but hauled herself up and away from the sleep-couch, the world suddenly spinning at this height. She barely registered Obi-Wan following suite, sparing no thought for smoothing down his tunics as he crossed the cramped space.

"Ahsoka!"

_Here we go again._

She braced herself for the worst, clamping her eyes shut.

In a strange twist of events, it was an errant feeling of pure determination that cut through the Force's bombardment. It wasn't hers, yet it passed through her mind as if it were part of her soul. To accompany, she swore she felt more than heard an unrefined ' _Kark it'._

The breath hitched in her throat.

Two strong arms wrapped around her, encasing her in nothing but... Light. _Sorrow. Pain._ There was something else as well, a word that had been whispering from behind yet she'd refused to acknowledge it. But as Obi-Wan Kenobi's arms settled around her, a gentle hand to her neck and the other pressed flat between her shoulder blades, she chocked. _Home._

Both Jedi faltered, both stood stock still as the Force settled around them.

It was such an un-Kenobi thing to do. In fact, it was so uncharacteristic of him it could be argued that the pure _shock_ of his sudden embrace had rattled her so hard, it rendered her lifeless.

She ignored the tears that wanted to fall, because she knew that if she didn't, she'd begin crying with all the force of someone throwing up on all-fours. She'd let him hold her, in the middle of a cramped sleeping quarters on a Nubian cruiser, several thousand clicks from Tatooine and thirteen years in the past. Because like a beacon on the darkest nights, he stood as a reminder. A reminder of how much this universe stood to loose if the Light simply ceased to be.

She'd felt how much he'd lost, she'd seen the flicker of hope be extinguished in his eye like a fragile candle in the wind.

_The seeds of your Master's darkness have been sewn within you, Little One._

Her own words came back to her, older, haunted by terrors and events to come that merely a week ago, she could only concoct in her wildest of nightmares. She'd been so desperate to warn herself.

Ahsoka swallowed past her heart that had inched its way into her throat. It was merely a distant future now, hazy and with all the potential to be changed.

Because here she _stood_ , thirteen years in the past with the arms of a twenty-four-year-old Obi-Wan Kenobi wrapped tightly, _securely_ around her.

A vague thought drifted through her mind with all the tangibility of a fleeting dream. If someone had told her a week ago that she'd find comfort in the embrace of her grandmaster, whose detached eyes stared down at her from the Council's booth, she'd have laughed.

Yet... here she was.

"Who was he?" His gentle question cut through all, as such was the current trend. Ahsoka tried not to coil up like a spring or tighten like an animal eager to pounce. She almost failed, until she found herself gripping the fabric at his back, her nose pressing into the rough material of his shoulder. He smelt of those musty tunics, boot polish and blaster fire, but there was a hint of something else — the faded scent of wash soap, irrefutably male. She smiled at the discovery — even she used a generic soap to escape the pending accusations of vanity. Anakin, however… she always caught the hint of some fragrance, distinctly masculine, before he went out on his 'evening training'. She'd offered to come more than once, eager to impress her master. She felt as though his nightly escapades were a cruel joke, and she happened to be the punchline. His stumbling starts alone should have clued her in.

"He was my closest friend."

Her voice was broken, barely audible above the roar of the engines. His hands began to slip away, only to settle on either side of her arms. Ahsoka found herself protesting at the sudden lack of warmth and the absence of his embrace, but common sense prevailed. What more could she expect? Where she may have abandoned their ideals, disillusioned with the heart of the Jedi, she knew Master Kenobi could never be so… _liberal._

Yet, she had seen his own disenchantment when faced with the fall of his once-padawan. No, _disenchantment_ was the wrong word to describe it. _Horror_ was perhaps more apt to evoke what she'd witnessed. The destruction of a democracy and the agonising schism between two brothers. She'd felt Master Obi-Wan's heart break. It was her own heart that fractured every time she witnessed small glimpses of the seeds of Anakin's destruction grow, the roots of that demonic tree ripping up the groundwork of a once prosperous, flourishing Republic.

"What happened to you, Ahsoka?" His eyes awash with concern (and a mild note of wariness, she knew), Obi-Wan searched her countenance for any answer. Ahsoka blinked away.

And in a demonstration of a very un-Jedi thing to do — a very un-Ahsoka thing to do — the Togruta gently, steadily, almost mechanically stepped into him. Brushing past his sudden start, her own arms moulded around him, her chin finding a perch on his shoulder. Blue eyes, however, tracked something unseen in the distance.

"You know," she croaked. "I think I died. I'm not sure."


	9. Untimely Revelations

"Ah, tea."

The piping hot chrome mug was placed in front of her, the Jedi Master pressing a hand to her shoulder as he went. Taking the seat opposite her on the small table, he slid another cup to the space beside her.

"A definite staple here on the SS Escape, I'm sure."

Obi-Wan Kenobi offered his comment with a serving of dryness that could potentially rival the planet they were mere hours away from touching down on. He took up his tea, a certain note of mischief to line his tone, and gazed over the brim of his mug. The ends of Ahsoka's mouth curled upwards despite herself, and instead she chose to hide her amusement in her tea. Master Qui-Gon arched a brow at his padawan before taking a sip himself. Whether it was the Force that seemed to relax around him, or simply just his oncoming headache being chased away by the welcomed brew, he neither knew nor really cared. There were more pressing matters at hand.

His eyes again fixed on Ahsoka. "So you stood on the steps of the Temple?"

She'd been cajoled out of their quarters with the arrival of Qui-Gon, who'd barely missed their parting as the doors slid open. There'd been no awkward blushing or ungainly attempts to dance around what had happened, only a quiet acceptance that even Qui-Gon sensed resonating between them. Consequently, at her outburst and Obi-Wan's one-too-many discoveries, she could no longer hide behind a hazy screen of indecision. They had to be told something.

That was why she found herself in the galley of the cruiser, again. However, this time the cruiser was preparing to pull out of hyperspace in orbit around Tatooine. _Tatooine._

_Come on, Ahsoka._

At his question, Ahsoka nodded. The artificial light in the galley spilt over her face, illuminating the minute changes in her expression better than it had in the dusty illumination of their quarters. Qui-Gon could see the slight shift in her gaze, the eager press of her lips — they all stood as milestones across her face, indicators of her inner turmoil.

"I'd just made it to step seven-hundred and fifty when it happened." And here she was, explaining her predicament to a man that should, according to causality, be dead.

"Hmm, sounds like step seven-hundred and fifty might have been a bit of a _misstep_ , Ahsoka. Wait, how many steps _are_ there out front?"

"Padawan…"

At the sound of his Master's cautioning tone, the young man seemed to recoil. "Sorry Master." Qui-Gon again quirked a brow at him, sensing the boy's instant blanch. However, he couldn't sustain any frustration he might have harboured, not when he knew the reason for his padawan's impudence. He and Obi-Wan surely had their fair-share of dealing with distressed teenagers throughout their long, illustrious time together (Qui-Gon in particular). Obi-Wan had dealt with each distraught young teen differently (he'd unwisely fallen in love with a few along the way, but what could Qui-Gon expect? Beneath the calm, serious and collected façade, Obi-Wan was a bleeding heart). It seemed his response to the young Ahsoka was to… crack jokes every few moments and constantly distract. Qui-Gon heaved a sigh into the Force, mentally rolling his eyes. Force, he hoped he'd simply misread the situation. _Please._

"Seven-fifty in total, Obi-Wan." She added, a sly grin betraying her as she shook her head in exasperation — but it disappeared as readily as it had appeared. "I barely stepped off the last step when it came. The Force seemed to whir around me, I — I had no idea what was happening," Her hands fell back around her cup. _I had just left Anakin beneath the pillars… I had left the Council, and the Order high above the Coruscanti skyline. I had left a part of myself within the walls of that Temple._

_Yet, here I sit._

They had to know.

"Master," she began. She didn't know how to do this. She felt the need, knew the destination, but didn't know how to get herself from point A to point B.

Her gaze fell heavenwards, her mouth now positively parched despite the tea she had downed mere moments before. She'd have to ease them into this, there was no other way. "Master, I've been having visions."

The older Jedi's chest seemed to swell at that, the air passing heavily from his nose with an audible sigh. "I believed as much. And judging by how volatile your reactions are to these visions, they're not exactly _optimistic_ , are they?"

She shook her head. "No, not exactly." The word _understatement_ seemed to pass between all three Jedi present.

"There… There is _something else,"_ she tried not to rush her words. She needed to breathe. "I don't know how to tell you without sounding absolutely crazy…" Her gaze shot up from the table below her where she'd almost been begging her tea to consume her whole. (At least, that was how Obi-Wan perceived the staring contest between the Togruta and the tea cup.) An incredulous laugh teared from her chest, empty of any mirth that might have been felt. "I'm not going to begin explaining _why_ or _how_ , but —" she sighed. "Force, it might've been easier if I'd simply assumed the body of my five-year-old self in this time, rather than have to explain this," she all but whispered, both Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan straining to hear her crazed muttering.

"Padawan Tano…"

She met his gaze, her hands abandoning her stewing tea instead to press firmly against the cool tabletop. _Here goes nothing._ "Master Jinn, I'm from thirt—"

"Master Jedi."

A voice called across the room, effectively cutting her off. All eyes in the galley turned to the doorway where Captain Panaka was striding towards them. His gaze briefly jumped to her, Ahsoka reading his distrust with ashamed eyes, before they were back on Qui-Gon. "We're beginning our approach on Tatooine. I thought it would be prudent to begin organising a plan for once we're planet-side. As such, the Queen has called a meeting in her chambers. She wishes for you to attend," his eyes hesitantly fell to the opposing side of the table, "Your apprentice and charge as well."

A part of Ahsoka rallied at that. Padmé had requested that she attend. Friends and allies were always a good thing to have.

"Very good, Captain." Qui-Gon took a slow sip from his tea before he was placing the mug down. "Inform her Highness that we shall be with her shortly."

If the Captain wasn't happy with the Jedi's response, he could do precisely nothing about it. Of course, except grumble something incoherent after he'd given them his acknowledgment and left the room. When Ahsoka spared a glance to her fellow padawan, she was met with the impish grin that she'd sparingly seen on Master Kenobi. Albeit, it was hard to discern the subtle, conspiratorial curve of his lips past the beard (and what were these, dimples?), but she'd certainly seen it during more lighthearted moments throughout her three-year stint as a war-trained Jedi padawan. Usually it was spared for outwitting haughty senators with a lot to say. Anakin usually favoured his lightsaber in such situations.

His gaze flickered to hers, the definite goading flash meeting hers. She cracked an involuntary smile. "He doesn't like me. Yeah, I noticed."

"And I simply cannot fathom as to why." He quipped back. 

A hum of humoured agreement joined their exchange, Master Qui-Gon again taking another sip of the still-steaming tea. It prompted Ahsoka to do the same before it was no longer steaming. _No use wasting good tea_.

Heavy eyes set on her though, as she put the cup down. The feeling of nausea began creeping its way up her throat again, sending her stomach over as if she had just suddenly slipped from the highest point of Coruscant. Gone was the brief moment of banter, and in came the galaxy-churning revelations. For the umpteenth time that day, Ahsoka Tano sighed.

"You were muttering something about being five-years-old, Padawan?"

 _Yes. That._ She swallowed. _Oh, boy._

"You're gonna think I'm insane Master." Flickers of Anakin, _Vader_ came to her. Then Liam, barley clinging to a lightsaber that was almost as long as he was tall. The burning hell of Mustafar, the smell of her master's charred flesh, the wailing of Padmé joined by her newborn children. And Obi-Wan's heart, shattered into pieces and desperately clinging onto an image of the young boy who'd somehow become something unspeakable. The stench of failure hung with a rancid resolve around his aura.

_Breathe._

_"_ Master Qui-Gon, I'm not from here."

His head turned, so did Obi-Wan's. The two men shared a glance, before Ahsoka was pressing her lips together. She stifled an empty smile. "I mean, I'm not from this _time._ " That earned her a serious head turn, brown and grey eyes now boring into her as if scrutinising her very existence. In some ways, she supposed they were. "I think I'm from roughly thirteen to fifteen years into the future."

A beat, where only the sound of her heart pounding against her ribcage and her entire stomach plummeting into the floor of her pelvis filled the uneasy silence. Her gaze darted intermittently between the two Jedi and the table (the latter winning out) as she waited on tenterhooks.

Finally, "You can't be ser—"

"Believe me, I wish I was joking. Every single time I've woken up here I wish it were back at the Temple. But here I am." She shook her head. She was reluctant to admit it to herself, but there was more than a sliver of truth to what she had said.

A grave nod from the Jedi across from them caused her fists to clench beneath the table. "There's nothing to be frightened of, Ahsoka. The truth is a far better explanation than any other deception you could have used." He arched a brow at his padawan, whose eyebrows seemed to have risen a few, considerable notches. "This one believed you were a Federation spy." The young man in question whipped around his head to meet Qui-Gon's lighthearted gaze. The Jedi Master lifted a heavy hand to massage away the inevitable headache. "Padawan, if you stay like that and the wind changes…"

A disgruntled cough brought Obi-Wan's face into a more schooled expression of grave acceptance. _That's better._

"Well, it would certainly explain why you keep addressing me as _Master_ Kenobi. And the Queen…"

"And it would explain why your reactions to your visions _are_ so volatile, young one." Qui-Gon cut through, his gaze settling on his still half-full chrome mug of tea. Suddenly, he felt the need for something a bit stronger than Hubriscus tea — which, according to his petulant padawan, was not a feat so easily achieved. "And why your presence in the Force was initially so unstable."

"Master, I wish I could explain to you _how_ this happened,"

"Padawan, I think your only concern should be that it _has._ Keep your concentration on the here and now. Be mindful of the Living Force."

Ahsoka fought the urge to flinch. He'd begun disciplining her as though she were his own padawan. The way Obi-Wan's attentions seem to throw momentarily, he'd also sensed the shift in tone. However, the padawan had started at the sound of a phrase that had been repeated to him so often _—_ it was a teaching that Qui-Gon so often attempted to instil in him, it'd become a mantra of sort between the two Jedi. However, try as Qui-Gon might, Obi-Wan's strength always lay with the Unifying Force. It brought a sense of balance to their relationship, he liked to think. While Qui-Gon contributed a profound sense of the present, Obi-Wan was always the watchful eye tuned towards the horizon. They kept each other in check and provided the other's weaknesses as strengths; a healthy partnership by any stretch.

However, to hear Qui-Gon's almost-mantra he usually kept reserved for him, now repeated to another padawan…

"Yes, Master." She dipped her head, steeling herself. It hurt somewhat to have someone, let alone a Jedi Master, begin passing lessons onto her again so soon, but… she'd swallow her pride. There were much bigger things at play than simply her hubris. While the Jedi would eventually need the specifics of her vision (this was not the right time nor place), for now she envied them to some extent. She could never forget the apocalyptic horror the Force had subjected her to.

"For the time being, I believe we should keep this revelation between ourselves." Brown eyes passed over blue and grey ones. "Our first priority is to the Queen, and I believe it would be in her best interests if the Naboo remain in the dark regarding Ahsoka's situation for now."

Obi-Wan gave a hum in agreement before voicing any concerns or the like. "And besides, in the interests of Captain Panaka's inevitable migraine, it's best we keep this amongst ourselves."

Ahsoka had to laugh at that, grey eyes flickering to her's. The master and padawan rejoiced in such a radiant thrum in the Force, however briefly it existed for.


	10. "It's rough, course, irritating..."

"Hmm... Stunning, isn't it." Embittered eyes turned away, his distaste seeming to curl into the Force around him.

"Just peachy," Ahsoka blanched. Matching his harrumph, she followed Obi-Wan back into the cool of the ship. Their footfalls echoed within the cargo bay as they climbed the ramp and returned to a more forgiving climate.

"I don't suppose by your time a miracle has happened, and Tatooine is now some sublime agricultural planet with sprawling hills of green?" With no attempt made to hide his clear disgust for the planet before him, Obi-Wan turned to the small convergence of pilots beside them. Captain Panaka reached from the small group to hand the padawan what looked to be two communicators. Obi-Wan bowed his thanks.

"I wish. My master is adamant on the fact the planet is exactly the same drab, barren, dusty hell-hole he left all those years ago."

If Ahsoka had been paying attention to what she was complaining about, and not too busy dusting the fiendish grains of sand from her gauntlets, she would have remembered _not_ to infuse her comments with a plethora of subtext. It just begged for someone with the intellect of Obi-Wan Kenobi to crack open the cataclysm of connotations. Ahsoka's eyes widened to almost comical proportions as they darted to her companion.

And sure enough, she would have to face the oncoming deluge of amiable frowns and keen eyes wracking her demeanour for _anything else_ to help piece together the slowly unfolding mystery that was Ahsoka Tano these days. Ahsoka scrunched her face.

"Ahsoka—" He began, said Togruta wanting the sands of Tatooine to swallow her whole.

"Padawans. There you are."

Four words had never been so soothing before. Well, there was always, _'I've got you, Snips.',_ ' _Koh-too-yah_ _, little one',_ or _'Care for a cup?'._ But in that moment, trying to ignore the encroaching heat of a scorching desert planet, and the foreboding knowledge that their small entourage would run into _him..._ having Master Qui-Gon walk through the doorway to the cargo hold, cutting off any clever observations of Obi-Wan's, was like Life Day come early.

Eventually, as if someone had to literally pry his gaze from her, Obi-Wan turned to his approaching master with a sweeping bow. Ahsoka told herself it was to keep up the façade when she bowed to Master Qui-Gon as well, and not sheer instinct still dictating her every move.

"Master," they both said with the same degree of respect, as Qui-Gon sidestepped the small gathering of pilots to join them. What lay in his hands caught Ahsoka's attention. However, she didn't fail to pick up Obi-Wan's wary glance before Qui-Gon began handing her some scratchy, flimsy material. The Force suddenly swirled, and while her hands clamped around the item of clothing, her nose wrinkled at the unexpected feeling. Looking up revealed a flash of something passing between master and padawan, unspoken but perfectly coherent. Obi-Wan's brows shot up as he crossed his arms over himself, his fingers barely peering out from his hems. In response to the action, a laugh gently shook the older Jedi's frame and Ahsoka had the faint image of the man slapping his padawan upside the head for what she presumed was his insolence.

Some part of her knew she hadn't solely imagined it, either.

With a turn of her brow, she rested a hand on her hip. "When you two are quite done, I think you better brace yourselves." The word _what?_ seemed to swim across their expressions. Ahsoka tried to stifle a smile. "Jar Jar's approaching fast from two o'clock."

She swore there was a distinct groan from Obi-Wan as she turned away. She definitely heard an exasperated sigh of the gungan's name from Qui-Gon as she joined the small group of Nubians behind her. The pilots were still busy organising a plan of attack on the hyperdrive — none were quite brave enough to inform the Queen that even when they had the missing parts, it would still be quite the conundrum to piece the almost-completely-fried hyperdrive back together again.

Almost as if on cue, Ahsoka's favourite astromech gave a warm chirp of greeting as he rolled through the doorway. A smile plastered itself to her face.

Artoo had been by Anakin's side for as long as she'd known him. The droid had been through thick and thin alongside herself and Anakin — she supposed it made sense that he'd be here now. Anakin had been willing to tear the Outer Rim apart in search of him; that kind of loyalty had to be born from somewhere.

 _Well, if anyone is capable of fixing this hyperdrive, it'd be good old Artooie._ She fought the urge to walk over to her old friend and pat his chrome dome. Anakin always looked down on her with some level of disgust whenever she did that. _He's not a lothcat, Ahsoka. He doesn't need his belly rubbed._ From henceforth, Ahsoka Tano had been a possessed thirteen-year-old determined to catch her master in the act. And like always, Skyguy never disappointed. She'd all but fallen out of the overhead supply cupboard when Anakin began cooing to the droid. In her delirium-induced fit of laughter, Anakin had to pry her foot loose from the cupboard, all the while grumbling. There she was, dangling mere inches from the floor of the Twilight's cargo hold. The only thing holding her in place was a lodged boot caught in the cupboard she'd slipped from. Her laughter, coupled with a creeping sense of guilt, put her in such a stupor that she barely managed to catch his warning about ' _spying on your master,'_ or the obligatory ' _Don't tell Obi-Wan,_ ' to follow.

Something painful tugged at her heart. The sudden jolt caused her to bite down on her tongue. And yet again, Ahsoka Tano was plagued with the awful task of differentiating the Master Anakin of her memories from the monster of her vision. With an overwhelming sense of hopelessness, she knew which version motivated her actions.

Yet, it was the promise of seeing again a young face, now a stranger, that sent her hand soaring up. She'd go _—_ she'd go with Master Qui-Gon across the Wastes and into the slum of Mos Espa.

It'd been an interesting half-hour spent in the Queen's Chambers, if she could describe it in anyway. Really, it would've been as boring as any other standard briefing during the war. All that was missing from the congregation were a few clones, Rex and Anakin. _Well, at least Master Kenobi's here and accounted for... same can't be said for the facial hair._ But there was something there _—_ something more than the dull ache brought about by the painful familiarity of the situation.

Because Anakin was here. Anakin was on this planet.

It brought both a sense of overwhelming joy that surged through the Force (she tried to ignore the looks she received from the two Jedi), and a foreboding sense of horror that settled in the pit of her stomach like a Loreek snake waiting with lethal patience for its next victim.

_Because he was here._

That revelation set off another whole wave of pain. Within the confines of the Queen's chambers, filled with squabbling pilots, decoys, Jedi, security captains and outspoken handmaidens, it wasn't exactly easy to just step outside the room to clear her head. So instead, she'd settled for resting a hand to her temples, attempting to disperse the heat she'd found there, into the Force.

Goosebumps coursed up her skin from seemingly nowhere, the welcomed rush of cool flowing over her. At first she'd believed it to be a kind mercy of the Force... until she felt the hand leave her arm. Turning her gaze down wasn't necessary to know who the hand was attached to. In her gratitude, she offered Qui-Gon a slight bow. The slow fall of his head ended her cataclysmic episode before it began. She didn't fancy taking down a whole room of Nubian citizens and two Jedi with a sudden conniption.

But still, the fact that Anakin was on this planet, and that the Jedi were to inevitably cross paths with him, had shaken her. There she stood, next to two Jedi, attempting not to broadcast any thought or image of Master Anakin or Darth Vader. For the three days on this blasted ship she'd been either asleep, in meditation, or having an episode _(and nearly killing Master Kenobi in the process)_. She'd been so consumed in accepting her dilemma and the possible ramifications of her presence in this time, Tatooine had been sneaking up in silence. Anakin had been sneaking up on her, and she'd almost missed it.

The sudden epiphany had been a figurative slap to the face.

She'd accepted her fate, but almost too late. She was thirteen years in the past, only six years younger then Obi-Wan Kenobi, and had almost a decade on her own master. She'd seen a hopeless future, left behind a doomed Order. _No, something has to be done._

_"Obi-Wan... Qui-Gon, sires. Pleeese, let mesa stay."_

_"No, Jar Jar, you'll help in lessening suspicions. Now..."_

Ahsoka shook her head, having been inadvertently called back to reality by the distressed gungan. The poncho in her hand seemed to gather weight, so she went about pulling the course fabric over her head. When the patchy grey and beige haze gave way to the blinding light of Tatoo One and Two, Ahsoka shrinked away, seething as she went. "No wonder Anakin hated sand."

"Hmm, I'd have to agree with this mysterious Anakin. I spent barely a minute outside, and I think my boots swallowed half the desert."

 _Padmé._ Ahsoka's eyes locked onto the Queen... _Oh no... She's not going to try and come as well. At this rate, how about we just make an outing of it? I'm sure the pilots would love to have a picnic out on the dunes. Padmé's decoy'd probably hate it though. We'll end up bringing half of Tatooine back into the ship just in her clothes alone. There'll be more sand than decoy._

 _"_ Padmé." Ahsoka took hold of the girl's arm, dragging her a few feet further from the rest of the crowd in the hold. "You can't seriously be considering coming." She liked to think her Padmé would have been content to sit on the ship and wait. _Yeah, right._

"Of course." The younger girl furrowed her brows, turning her arm away from Ahsoka's ghosting fingers. "There is little risk in me going to Mos Espa. No one is looking for the Queen of Naboo on a backwater planet like Tatooine, Ahsoka." Ahsoka watched in exasperation as the young girl straightened, her proud chin a show for no-one but herself and the Jedi. "And besides, I'll have my valiant Jedi protectors, won't I?" And with that, Padmé left her with a secretive smile.

Ahsoka couldn't help but whisper in the Queen's ear as she passed by. "How'd you convince Captain Panaka?"

That earned a quiet laugh. "He's not as formidable as he seems. He's a wonderful tactician and a brilliant security officer," Padmé paused, which brought the taller girl to her side. However, Ahsoka got the impression Padmé had stopped in order to avoid certain ears from hearing the conversation _—_ namely that of one easily irritable Security Captain. "But he has the temperament of a loth cat."

 _Whereas you have the disposition of a karked-off nexus if you want something._ With _all due respect, Senator._

Ahsoka tried not to furrow her brows. Some internal part of her surged with an overwhelming gladness that she'd chosen not to speak that aloud. Where her Padmé might have laughed, Ahsoka didn't believe she'd forged a close enough relationship with the girl before her yet to start jabbing at her with halfhearted wisecracks. _That_ belonged to a part of her that'd only ever been strengthened by her master.

_Oh Kriff. Anakin. Padmé._

_Oh Light._

She let the girl walk off. Faint eyes followed her until the Queen stood beside her security captain once more. _Oh... Force be kind._

_She'll meet Anakin._

What felt like years and years of deception, dishonesty and falsehoods rumbled from a dark place within her. A dam, bursting at its seems — finally, it erupted within her. Love had torn Anakin from the Light; she'd witnessed his downfall through the eyes of someone who had loved him just as dearly as she had. _Perhaps even more._

Love was a many wondrous things... But it was something a Jedi could not crave. He could give unconditionally, but never hope to receive in fear of attachment. The darkest things could be born from attachment — Ahsoka had seen an entire Republic topple because of the desperation of one man to save who he loved so dearly.

_Anakin._

Involuntary hands rose to rub at her arms. The heat of Tatooine seemed unable to penetrate the impossible cold crawling around her.

"Ahsoka," A sudden, gentle hand pressed into her arm. Her hands stopped their incessant and fractious movement so blue eyes could meet the concerned grey of another. "Are you alright?"

_I loved you._

"Yeah, of course." she nodded to the ground.

Obi-Wan's less-than-enthusiastic response took shape in a belated breath… before the young man's eyes were darting towards his awaiting Master.

"You be careful out there." His gaze was back on hers, and Ahsoka felt the generous tug of hands on her poncho. A half-smile twisted the corner of his lips. "On top of the less than hospitable life in the wastes of Tatooine, one must also observe caution when dealing with locals such as Sand People or Krayt Dragons."

"You're talking to a seasoned Jedi Padawan here, _Padawan_ Kenobi." A smiled was returned. "I'll be fine."

He took a step back, but Ahsoka arched a slender brow in his direction. Against her intended reaction, his smile merely sinked further into the haze of impudence. "My apologies, _Padawan_ Tano." A flash, and the humour was gone. "However, your expertise will stretch to ensuring the Queen and Jar Jar's safety as well." _Let's not carried away in all that 'expertise', Ahsoka,_ was how she imagined that line of argument was meant to finish. With a rueful smile, the ex-padawan stepped backwards. The approaching frame of Master Qui-Gon was suddenly towering over them both, flanked by his gungan charge and an (overly) assertive handmaiden. Like a vigilant mother swooping over her children, Captain Panaka was still stitched to his Queen's side. _Oh, he's not coming_ too _, is he?_

_It wouldn't take much to stop by the galley and pick up a few sandwiches before we leave, you know._

_"_ Terrible day for a picnic though, don't you think?" 

"Yes, definitely." Ahsoka harrumphed to the padawan beside her.

"Ahsoka, did Obi-Wan provide you with a communicator?" Qui-Gon spared a glance to the visibly wavering heat outside. Mos Espa was merely little more than a glistening blur in the distance, and the threat alone of the volatile temperature and humidity caused his beard to bristle. "And a water canister?"

"Sun protection, water canister, communicator and blaster all accounted for, Master Jinn. Your apprentice is thorough if anything."

That earned Obi-Wan a raised brow that slowly morphed into a crafty smile from the older Jedi.

"Ooo, Mesa don't wanna be goen. Dis sun doen murder tada skin. Dissen bery bery bad. Yousa be sendin' Obi now, okeyday?"

"Jar Jar… We discussed this. I'll be staying to fix the engines. You're going to town with Master Qui-Gon and Ahsoka."

"But Obi, sire."

"Jar Jar, that's enough." At the Jedi Master's sudden bark, the gungan almost made it several feet into the air. With a chastising frown, Master Qui-Gon ( _rolled his eyes… I know he is._ ) began descending the ramp. Ahsoka cast a sympathetic hand to the gungan's arm. "It's not so bad, Sen— Jar Jar. You can have some of my water if you run out."

"Oh, yousa bein' bery kind, milady. But mesa afraid that wonna be enuff'."

"You can have my water then, too." Padmé chorused in, a gentle hand inclined towards the sun. Her bodyguard mirrored the action.

The heat of the twin suns felt like a press of molten durasteel when they left the temperate cool of the ship. Ahsoka stifled a bothered sigh, trying not to narrow her eyes at the desolate wasteland of Tatooine.

A brief exchange of words between Master Qui-Gon and Captain Panaka halted their party. By the way Qui-Gon's shoulders seemed to slump in defeat, she knew he was fending off another deluge of the Queen's 'wishes'. Artoo gave an unappreciative whir from beside her which prompted Ahsoka to roll her eyes. A gloved hand reached out to pat the astromech's dome.

"I know, Artoo. Only another hour to go."

Eventually, the party of five began the trek across the desert. On the horizon, Padmé pointed out a small convoy moving along the sandy ledge. Ahsoka found herself watching the strangely moving caravan the entire way into town, ice creeping up her fingers despite the blistering heat of the planet. When she finally managed to pull at Master Qui-Gon's poncho, he merely nodded to her.

"Yes, I've noticed as well, Young One."

The Force seemed to swirl in shadows over the horizon.


	11. The Yellow in a Nine-Year-Old's Eye

"...moisture farms for the most part, but also a few indigenous tribes and scavengers. The few spaceports like this one are havens for those who do not wish to be found…"

"Like us."

An exotic array of alien life scattered the scene before her. Padmé, who had only ever walked the antiquated streets of Theed, tried to place the foreign sands of Tatooine against the organised, conservative architecture of Naboo. Her limited frame of reference seemed sorely unequipped for the constant wall of yellow beige. Her eyes scanned the horizons for any glimpse of green to relieve the eye — nothing.

"Is this your first time in the Outer Rims?" Ahsoka now hovered beside her, the blue eyes of their unforeseen ally now peering into hers. Padmé cast her gaze across the alien ocean once more. "I've never been off planet before, but don't think me uncultured,"

"You, uncultured?" Ahsoka laughed, but the sound seemed to die in her throat. Instead, she settled for a gentle smile.

"I've acquainted myself with all the known corners of the galaxy. It's considered standard knowledge if you intend to go into public service. It's just…" Her eyes were caught again wondering round corners and down alleys she wouldn't dare to venture down herself. Ahsoka followed her gaze with a knowing smile.

"It's just really different when you're actually there, isn't it."

"Yes." A wall of uncertainty met an encouraging smile — there was nothing to be ashamed of. Something cool brushed against the young Queen, skirting around the sleeve of her peasant garb. A faint tug at the hemming reminded Padmé of the sensation of skin against skin. Even with an unavoidable ignorance to the Force, Padmé curled her fingers around the invisible touch as Ahsoka continued forward. The young Togruta joined her master as the ungainly gungan now provided some form of shade.

"Ah, mesa be thinkin' that mesa be takin' some of dat water now."

With a smile crushed by the blistering sun, Padmé fetched her water canister for the gungan.

Meanwhile, Ahsoka struggled not to let her eyes roam around every doorway and through every shady outcrop. With her senses cast outwards, brushing against every presence in the small plaza they'd wandered into, it was no great surprise when her bait managed to real in the only other Force sensitive with her. Qui-Gon's brown eyes cast downwards, the sun-kissed skin of his charge radiating just as much discontent as her Force signature.

"Ahsoka. I know it might seem prudent to discern and anticipate any possible threats from those around us," he looked away, his head turning as if in search of something. Sure enough, the master switched directions, dragging their small party towards a line of well stocked junk stores. "In fact, I would encourage your attention to your surroundings and the Living Force. However," Qui-Gon's gaze met hers with a lighthearted twist of his brow. "Don't you think it would be best that the entire plaza, force-sensitive or not, isn't staring at us?" At her upturned brow and slightly slack jaw, Qui-Gon gestured his head back to a small outdoor café. A few rough-looking patrons had hardened gazes homed on their small party. Ahsoka's eyes widened before her head was dipping down.

It was a rookie mistake.

"Sorry, Master Qui-Gon."

"No need for apologies, Padawan." He gave no further reprimand, and as Ahsoka looked up, she tried to gauge his expression. However, a combination of the sun haloing his form and the assemblage of facial hair, she could make neither hide nor tail from the towering master. It was an exact opposite of Anakin. She felt, even after only a few war-torn weeks as his padawan, she could discern every minute change across her master's face. He wore his heart on his sleeve, baring his passionate and tumultuous nature for all.

She herself wasn't much better. In fact, she felt their partnership only encouraged her sharp tongue and 'insolence' (she didn't need Master Windu's constant exasperation to advertise his dislike of her _brusque_ behaviour.)

So, whether she liked it or not, Ahsoka was both a reflection of her master and her own person's. Master Kenobi had made the comment early on in her newfound apprenticeship that she and Anakin were rather _suited_ together. It dawned on her at the time he was passing comment on their similar dispositions and proneness to unrestrained outbursts. But it wasn't until later, when she'd nearly died by her master's side, picked up the pieces after him (always remembering to collect him as well as she went) and had spent countless nights on some desolate planet pressed to his side, that Master Obi-Wan's true meaning came to her. She doubted even the master himself had understood just how _accurate_ his observation had been. She would have lived and died by Anakin Skywalker's side once, yet… she took herself down those steps and witnessed his downfall. Her departure, _her abandonment_ , had simply been a catalyst to his situation. His disillusionment with the Order, his hatred towards the Council, and the slow, agonising decline of his relationship with Obi-Wan — a man who was only truly alive when seeing the light in his former apprentice's eyes.

In the sands of Tatooine, thirteen years before Anakin Skywalker's betrayal and the downfall of the grand Republic, Ahsoka Tano measured her steps and came up short.

She'd loved Anakin, too, just as much as Obi-Wan and Padmé had ( _and hopefully still would)._

Invisible strings tugged on her heart, pulling tired feet along until Ahsoka Tano found herself standing within the cooler climate of some featureless junk-shop. When the barbed wires retracted, leaving her blinking sand from her eyes and placing the tall frame of Master Qui-Gon, Jar Jar, and the shorter stature of Padmé and Artoo before her, Ahsoka regathered her posture. Had Qui-Gon found a store he liked? Had the Force whispered of the possibility of a hyperdrive generator being in _here_? Would he object if she asked to slip out into the town?

Because _he_ was here.

She could practically feel it. The Force pulsed like caged wings against her sides, the intensity of the fluttering gradually building as she craned her neck around every possible corner in Mos Espa. Here, within the confines of this small shop, it seemed to leave her standing in a mess of swarming Frailop Bats. Anakin was nearby, somewhere on this desolate planet. She'd tried to reach for his Force Signature; tried to tap along a bond that only existed in broken remnants within her mind — and was given nothing in return.

Ahsoka set her boots against the sandy cobble. She could feel Padmé's eyes dancing around and around the interior of the store, her body seeming to follow suite as Qui-Gon began conversing with the Toydarian store-owner. Ahsoka set her jaw and approached the Jedi Master. Greedy eyes filled with an obligatory level of distrust settled on her. Ahsoka had no qualms with crossing her arms as she came elbow to elbow with Master Qui-Gon. (Well, almost elbow to waist, really. The man had a good foot on her.)

"Hi chuba da naga?" A rough voice suited the alien who scratched a poorly-shaven chin. However, Master Qui-Gon seemed to exude calm and patience into the Force. Within the trio of Jedi she had once belonged to, that had been the man-beside-her's once-padawan's unspoken job to provide. Master Obi-Wan's constant levelheadedness and reserved nature always balanced out her and Anakin's more volatile disposition.

She always wondered where he'd gained such a serene demeanour. She'd always thought he'd simply been born to it. But perhaps Master Qui-Gon Jinn had quite a considerable hand in shaping the man that was Master Kenobi — a man that always brought a sparkle to every initiates eye when mentioned in hushed awe.

More than once she'd taken an initiate's class for a day, and been bombarded with eager questions and hopeful looks regarding the 'dynamic duo' she worked with. ' _Does Master Skywalker really have a robotic hand?' 'Yes.' 'Did Master Kenobi really take on Count Dooku, Ventress and Grevious, all at once?' 'And lived to tell the tale.' 'Is Master Skywalker really the Chosen One?' 'Of course.' 'Did Master Kenobi really sit through three days of constant negotiation with the Tralorians?' 'And managed to settle all political disputes on the planet and welcome them into the Republic. But do you know what the best part was?' 'What, Master?' 'He was only invited to overlook proceedings for the Queen's birthday.' 'Gosh.'_

Ahsoka paced away from the exchange in front of her, choosing instead to cross her arms and cover her mounting smile with a stealthy hand. Her eyes overturned every corner of the shop, but really peering past the collection of droid parts and over mechanical bits-and-bobs she couldn't place.

Granted, that question had come from an older initiate on the prow for a master to train her, but it was one of the better questions no less. So yes, maybe Qui-Gon had shaped the diplomat within Master Obi-Wan. The young man she'd left across the desert would one day stride up to her and offer her his cup of tea in the middle of a war-torn continent on some far away planet. It was kindness that only Master Plo or Yoda had shown her before. And when her middle wanted to rise from her mouth and join the mess of slaughtered clones before her, she'd all but pulled Master Kenobi next to her and let him talk her around the carnage.

Anakin was different. He'd either joke about it, or pull her into a bone crushing hug. She struggled with those moments, she wouldn't lie. His attachment was obvious, _dangerous_ , yet… she allowed him to hold her. In hindsight, she'd been utterly foolish. Perhaps she wouldn't be here, thirteen years in the past with memories of a nightmare bound to come true if she'd simply _said_ something.

Anakin Skywalker stormed his way through a Temple of Jedi, seeing neither race nor age as the bodies began littering the hallways. He only saw an ancient enemy and a blinding red. Somewhere in her mind, she found she could recall the stench. The feeling of her fingers pressing against the gossamer skin of a butchered initiate, the racing words, _please… please…_ drowning out all other thought.

She was the padawan. Simply the padawan. Yet, she'd been cursed to live with the memory of those hallways and the charred flesh within. Behind closed eyes, she relived memories that were not hers but no less real. It showed a future that begged for change… for liberation.

Yet, she feared the yellow in eyes that had once been so kind to her. To _all._

_"My droid has the readouts of what I need."_

A whistle of contentment shunted Ahsoka from her thoughts. As if she'd literally been lifted from one reality to another, Ahsoka fell back into the present. Had only a matter of moments passed? With a shiver sorely out of place on Tatooine, Ahsoka looked past the lifetime she had lived in mere seconds. Artoo raced past, leaving the Jedi padawan stranded at the counter she rested against.

Hands settled on her ponchoed arms. Ahsoka lifted a heavy head to the gaze of Padmé Amidala, concern seeming to thrum off her.

And then, just to add the cherry to the metaphorical Corellian Cake, a bouncing head of blond hair brought a small body down a flight of stairs. As the boy arrived on nimbe feet, Ahsoka failed to breathe. Unable to stave it off any longer, the Togurta sank to the dirt-covered ground. She gave into the threatening attack that had loomed like a sixth member of their party.

" _Ahsoka_."

_No. Please._

Master Qui-Gon's hands were scooping her up body and all, gently prying her head from the cobble stone that Padmé had somehow managed to buffer the impact of. Later, Ahsoka would have to apologise for causing scuffed hands and bruised knees. Now, however, Qui-Gon was busy batting away an irritated Toydarian and his curious slave boy.

"Not again," he grumbled, resting a hand to her forehead. _She has got to stop this._ Some part of him had hoped that simply having her relay her mysterious origins would put a stopper (or at least _ease)_ such volatile fits. Qui-Gon heaved a sigh — he'd clearly thought wrong.

" _Anakin."_ Ahsoka bit her lip, glassed over eyes thousands of lightyears away.

Sky blue eyes widened to unimaginable measures, peering at the fallen woman in the older man's arms. An impossible name fell from her lips, and behind closed eyes, she tracked impossible nightmares.

"Who's Anakin?" Another young woman had fallen by her side, her beauty beyond little Anakin's imagining. Her loveliness couldn't even be soured by the severity of her expression. Both the woman and man were pressing concerned hands into the girl's side.

Anakin blinked.

"I— I'm _Anakin_. I mean, my name is Anakin. Anakin Skywalker."

All eyes were suddenly on him. He gulped. _Oops._


	12. Hello, Anakin

Ever-shifting sand dunes disappeared and reappeared in a wind that roared against her face. Atop a sand dune, Ahsoka Tano stood in the washed murky greens and browns of a fast waning sunset. Before her rested the caravan she'd watched lazily wind its away across the landscape, now having finally stopped for the night. Unseen figures huddled in groups around the flimsy, canvased transports in the attempts to escape the raging wind. Yet, only one individual truly wanted to remain shrouded in shadow. A form construed of cloth and black moved on assured legs down an embankment of sand, desperate to flee under the cover of darkness. Something dark seemed to encase the silhouette, hanging around the slender frame just as easily as her robes fell.

But despite the majesty of this stranger, Ahsoka witnessed the sudden start — this woman stumbled upon the sand. A hand jut out to try and grope for the dune, but it was too late. The tumbling fall provided a different, more frantic conclusion to the seamless ease Ahsoka had witnessed before. The scrabble brought a mound of cloth to a stuttering stop at the bottom of the steep incline. Yellow eyes, once grey, darted from beneath a well-concealing hood.

They settled on her.

Ahsoka stared back, watching as the unknown figure stretched to an intimidating height. The whipping sand obscured any chance of discerning who this was, but it hid neither height nor stature. Something cold bit at her hand when she stared into the stranger's eyes. There was something awfully, terribly familiar that moved around her mind and whispered to her soul.

A hand to her arm — a hand tugging at her soul — hauled her away.

"'Soka."

" _Anakin."_

Blue eyes — _blue eyes! —_ searched hers. Strong hands gripped her arms. Her master held her; wouldn't let go. She fought off the floundering tears that threatened her resolve.

"'Soka, come back."

_What?_

"Obi-Wan's worried… I've never seen him like this. Master, come on." The words falling past a twenty-two-year-old Anakin's mouth seemed sorely out-of-place. She gripped the fabric of his tunic.

"What?"

* * *

" _Will she be alright?"_

_"I'm sure she'll be fine, Anakin."_

_"You really sure… because she didn't look fine."_

The groggy start of the girl on the narrow bed pulled all eyes down. As blue eyes gently flickered open, the eldest of the two huddled around her bed sighed.

"Ahsoka."

Said ex-padawan blinked. The face of Qui-Gon Jinn, whose brows were scrunched to new extents, hovered before her. Brown eyes narrowed, strands of long, chestnut hair dancing before her vision. Beside him, a new face swam into her line of sight. And while his identity may have been hidden by his youth to another, Ahsoka had spent far too much time around her old master to not recognise him.

Her heart gave a fluttering start, as if something was alive within her and wanted out.

"Hey," she croaked out, a smile curving her lip.

Because this time, it had been different. This time, there had been no Obi-Wan to nearly kill. There was no swarming vision of the topple of a Republic. There was darkness, most definitely, but it hadn't surged around Anakin Skywalker. She'd seen no yellow tainting his eyes. She'd seen a clear skyblue, as bright as the first day she'd met him on Christophsis all those years ago.

"Hey," the boy offered back, his head tipping to the side as she stared at him. Her smile never prompted one of his own, though. In fact, it only seemed to fuel the confusion she could feel radiating from him.

"Ahsoka, how are you feeling?"

A no-longer-gloved hand rose to her head. Other than a mild pang of discomfort, she felt none of the lasting effects of her previous visions. It was an odd comfort — _liberating_ in fact.

"Not as bad as I look, I'm sure." Wobbly muscles brought Ahsoka up to sit against the pillows supporting her.

"You must be feeling pretty okay then." Anakin gave a smile, _finally_ , before he was taking a step back. "I'll go tell Padmé and my mom. Mom'll probably have some stew left over. You hungry?" He stopped at the doorway, a break to his seemingly bouncing exterior. With a turn of surprise and an almost-choke, Ahsoka nodded.

"Yeah, yeah that'd be nice. Thanks, Ana—" _Kriff._ There had been no stopping it, of course. Not as she stared at him with wide eyes. Shock gripped her like a vice— because there was no darkness. She had been expecting it. She had expected it to curl around him in decimating waves, yet… _Nothing_. Only light. Somehow, it startled her more than if she had been greeted by the Dark Side. "Anakin. Thank you."

Impossibly blue eyes narrowed on her, before they were darting to the only other occupant of the room. Something unspoken passed between the two before Qui-Gon placed a large hand on Ahsoka's blanket.

"It's alright, Anakin. I'll explain later. Could you go and fetch something for Ahsoka to eat? She'll be very hungry by now."

Anakin scrunched his nose and narrowed those impossibly blue eyes, but, "Alright," and he was gone from the room.

With eyes still wide, Ahsoka remained glued to the doorway. She shook her head, blinking away the hazy image that had placed Anakin still in the doorway. There was a strange twist in her gut, letting her know the true reason behind her inability to depart with the entrance to the room.

She expected him to walk back in.

Not the nine-year-old Anakin, no. Rather, she hoped for Master Skywalker to come stumbling through the crumbling archway. It was a distant wish, too far-fetched to ever be fulfilled. She begged for him to appear, spot her lying prone on this old bed with a panicked call of that _blasted_ nickname, and take her away. Back to reality. _Back to my time._

With an inaudible sigh, Ahsoka collapsed into the pillows behind her. It was an absurd wish, just as preposterous as she actually being here. But still, his eyes were _blue_. Bright and blue.

"You know, I will have to tell him _something._ "

"What?"

Her gaze abandoning the coarse ceiling above her and settling on the calm exterior of Qui-Gon Jinn, Ahsoka heaved a sigh. With exhausted arms, she began to pull herself back up again. Her hands pressed into the flimsy mattress beneath, ready to manoeuvre her weight again, until Qui-Gon's hand gently grasped her now un-ponchoed arm.

"No, I don't want you to strain anything. You fell rather awkwardly in Watto's shop. Just rest, young one."

Something caught in Ahsoka's throat, a mild pause but with enough weight behind it to stop her flailing attempts at bringing herself upright. Blue eyes met a gentle brown. _Young one._

 _"_ Where are we?" The words sounded fainter than she would have liked, but her eyes were busying scanning every wall and corner of the cramped room both her and Qui-Gon were cooped up in — along with a multitude of dismembered electronics, mechanical bits-and-bobs, bolts and nuts, a plethora of tools, toy models that had surely seen brighter days, and a protocol droid (Ahsoka supposed it was — the droid was missing a few important layers). However, the mess itself spoke for the owner of said room.

With a sad smile, Ahsoka pressed her lips together. He hadn't changed at all.

"Something tells me you might already know the answer to that, Ahsoka."

The knowing glimmer in both his tone and gaze had hers skimming away again. With a sigh, she knew the master had his answer. "I understand that you will be hesitant to explain _everything_ , Padawan. However, when the boy begins to ask why the first thing to pass your unconscious lips is a tortured choke of his name — I can't make up an excuse that they don't deserve. The boy, and his mother."

"I know. It's just —" He was right. She _couldn't_ explain all of it. Not here, not now. Not to a man that in less than a week should be dead. Not to a small boy pulsing innocence and untapped strength into the Force. Neither of them needed to be burdened with such a revelation. A hand came up to rub at her bare arm.

"Here," something small and cylindrical was offered to her. Once she'd discerned that the muggy grey liquid within was water, Ahsoka took the cup with a smile. "Thanks Master."

A moment of content silence passed, where the only sound within the room was of Ahsoka draining the glass, and the chorus of chirping insects outside in the night.

"Would you be able to at least tell me why you collapsed when Anakin arrived? In truth, I was expecting that once I got you away from my padawan you would be less prone to these erratic fits." She handed the now empty mug back to awaiting hands. _Oh no…_

"I suppose I —" The same feeling plagued her again. Something was thrashing against her ribcage, wanting out. If before, within the confines of the galley, Ahsoka's indecision surrounding the truth caused her to stumble over words and laugh mirthlessly at herself, then here… "I suppose it's useless to try and hide it..." she was sure Qui-Gon could see her indecision, let alone sense it in waves. "But I do know him. My visions, I mean. I saw him."

It wasn't exactly a lie. No, in some ways it was the truth. _From a certain point of view._

Qui-Gon's brow quirked. Something within her recognised the meaning behind the gesture, despite only a short acquaintance with the Jedi Master. Surprise, shock, and a good dose of disbelief. Qui-Gon inclined in his seat, a hand coming up to rub at his bearded chin. It was an action that sent a bout of sad recognition swelling within, but she couldn't explain where it'd come from.

"You saw the boy in your visions. Do you know him in your time?"

Her heart skipped a beat, words refusing to come. It was so unlike her — usually she was always ready with a quip on her tongue. _Come on Ahsoka._

"Yes, but only a partial acquaintance." Was it safer to _not_ tell him? Could she trust those eyes, encourage them even? If Anakin's accounts were anything to go by, it was ' _Master Obi-Wan's Master_ ' who found the boy and brought him to the temple.

She'd only ever heard of the heroic but somewhat unorthodox master — of all his kindness and maverick nature burnt up too early on. Could she trust him? Anakin did. He said so himself.

_~'Train the boy, Obi-Wan. Train him.'_

_A broken, desperate hiccup. 'Yes, Master.' ~_

_"_ Ahsoka."

An angry hand came to wipe at the traitorous tear staining her cheek. _Stop it,_ it was a low grumble into the Force. _Please._

"Padawan, forgive me for my possible ignorance, but usually crying over something or someone suggests more than 'a partial acquaintance'." He leaned forward again, perching himself on elbows that dug into his shins. The Togruta's face curled up into a storm of disgust. However, he could sense the internal struggle — it was directed at herself. There was attachment there, strong at the heart but fraying around crumbling edges. "I'm sorry, Master."

It was neither the time nor place to reprimand her for such feelings. The boy seemed to be ignorant, but Qui-Gon could sense behind well-built shields her affection — and _fear_. She was broadcasting, no longer in control of what he'd sensed were shields beyond the level of a seventeen-year-old padawan. But just as brief as the glimmer of pain had been, the walls were thrown back up as high as the sides of the Temple itself.

"Ahsoka," a gentle hand rested against her blanket. The action called her gaze up to meet him. "I more than suspect you have been called to this time for a reason. While I sense the Force will reveal _why_ in its own mystic time," a flash of something, "The boy does deserve to know why we are currently in his bedroom, and his mother should want to know why she has to give away half her rations for the next week."

Ahsoka set her jaw, but felt none of the surety behind the action. It was as if someone was sending her out to face the darkness alone — there was hope, but it flickered like an obscure candle in the night. She just hoped Anakin would be the beacon upon the shore, rather than the evil lurking patiently beneath the waves.

Lithe limbs swung effortlessly over the side of the sleep couch, the feeling now too familiar. Her blanket fell away, and she sensed more than saw Qui-Gon collect the cloth and begin to fold it into neat little sections. "I'll go and tell him something. You're right, they deserve some explanation." Booted feet met the decidedly tidier floor, and she seethed past the pain in her knees.

"Careful, padawan. You did collide awkwardly with the floor… and the Queen's legs. You might need to offer her an apology later."

Some sound akin to an exasperated ' _argh'_ left her mouth, hands rising to scrub at her face. Sun-kissed fingers pressed into the markings over her brow bones. Qui-Gon swore he heard an embittered, ' _Why?_ ' and ' _First Obi-Wan, now Padmé?'_ " _Stars_ , maybe I shouldn't go find him."

Qui-Gon smiled, setting the blanket down at the end of the boy's bed. He rose on weary legs. "He'll be alright, padawan. I just want _you_ to be careful." A hand was suddenly at her shoulder, and Ahsoka's head turned with a forced ease. "I suspect you knowing Anakin's name, as well as Obi-Wan's and the Queen's is a little more than just these _visions_ you've been having." His chin fell, bringing him to stare at her past arched brows. "I trust that by the end of tonight, Anakin won't know the proceedings of the next decade and a half _before_ any of us, will he."

It was a gentle reprimand, one that left a much needed smile on Ahsoka's lips. Her head shook with a lighthearted 'no' to accompany.

"Very well, Ahsoka. Just be mindful of the Living Force. If it begins to — _move_ again,"

"Don't stand next to Anakin where I can easily squash him, yep. Gotcha."

A goodnatured chuckle rumbled deeply from Qui-Gon's chest. "Be cautious. I promised Obi-Wan I'd bring you back to the ship in one, _lucid_ piece."

At the quirk of her brow, Qui-Gon's smile brightened mischievously. "My padawan seems to believe you might be _his_ future padawan."

_Oh._

"Either that, or your master is someone by the name of Ashla."

_... What?_

When his searching gaze revealed no note of recognition or unexpected panic, Qui-Gon resigned himself. His padawan had been wrong then. Well, at least it was a small part of the mystery out of the way.

"Where'd he come up with _that?_ " She gave an incredulous look to an unsuspecting floor tile. Qui-Gon heaved a sigh.

"You apparently asked him about an _Ashla_ during a recent episode."

She shook her head, working over her teeth with her tongue. "I... don't know any Ashla."

The Jedi Master folded his arms, trying not to bite his lip. It was a habit his own master had tried to dissuade from him for the first few years of his apprenticeship. It wasn't until a fourteen year old Qui-Gon had managed to offend some important dignitary from the Liàront System with his unbecoming mouth movements, did Master Dooku finally have his way. It was only the diplomatic prowess of his respect-commanding master that managed to salvage the situation. Qui-Gon had been forced to apologise for his 'ignorant ways' to a haughty-taughty senator. _"You almost managed to start a war between the Republic and the Liáront System, my young apprentice. Let this be a lesson to you and your indecorous quirks."_ He learnt to school it in after that, for obvious reasons. Who knew when you could accidentally tell a dignitary to go and do something rather improper with themselves. Tahl had laughed for weeks after.

But here and now, Qui-Gon fought the odd sensation once more. The young padawan seemed not to have noticed; rather, the worrying of her own lip showed her own anxieties. Qui-Gon resisted the urge to chastise her as he would have done with Obi-Wan — the girl was not his padawan.

Clearing his throat, Qui-Gon offered the only other insight he could to the situation. "Ashla is an indigenous Togruta name—"

"I'm well aware of that." She didn't mean to be curt, but her thoughts were beginning to spin. 

"Of course. However, there are no _Ashla's_ within the Temple."

" _Within the Temple?_ Do you know an Ashla?"

After a belated moment, Qui-Gon nodded. "It's not a common name by any stretch — the name is rarely used, usually reserved only for a child of great importance in the intricate social hierarchies your people maintain. However, there is a Togruta fishmonger on Coruscant that Obi-Wan and I often frequent." 

"A _fishmonger_?" Her brows quirked, her chin dropping. Qui-Gon merely shrugged his shoulders. Somehow, the casual, comfortable movement brought some echo of warmth to the once-padawan.

"You did ask." He finished.

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, Ahsoka shook her head. They were only running in circles here — she made a note to ask Master Obi-Wan about it when she returned to the ship. However, here and now she had a nine-year-old master to go find. Turning her shoulder brought Qui-Gon to her side. The pain in her knee seemed to subside into the Force, curtesy of her own efforts as they made the doorway.

"By the Gods' graces… you're awake."

A woman with hair as dark as the night on Diloriat III dropped a basket of laundry onto the ground. Ahsoka struggled to place her rounded jawline and cracked lips to the handsome features of Anakin Skywalker. It wasn't until she found a bowl of soup in her hands and a young chattering Anakin by side with his own bowl did she finally see the unequivocal similarity between mother and son — it was the kindness in their eyes and selfless actions.

"I was just about to come and give you your dinner, you know." The small voice of her master mustered her attention again as his mother returned to the cramped kitchen. Ahsoka met the boy's curious gaze with a gentle smile.

"Hey, relax Anakin. It smells great." she smiled. 

The boy looked ahead, holding the bowl of stew before him as if it were some offering. The tendrils of steam trailed across his face as finally he noticed where Ahsoka was directing them.

"Don't you wanna sit inside? It's a bit cold out there, and Mister Qui-Gon thought you'd be more comfortable without your poncho on."

Balancing the bowl of still-hot soup and the clay spoon in one hand, Ahsoka mentally rolled her eyes.

"As great as your room is, Anakin, I think I need a breather. Don't you?" They finally made it outside onto the balcony. A cool gust of wind coursed up her arms, raising goosebumps and darkening her lekku. The small boy beside her noticed her hesitation by the door.

A lopsided smile curled his lips. "Do you like to breathe sand?"

That earned a snort. "It's not that bad."

When she didn't look at him, Anakin bit his lip."Are you sure you're feeling better? I was sure you broke your leg when you fell over. Even Padmé was."

It didn't surprise her when she felt those curious eyes turn to her knee. For his benefit, Ahsoka let go of her bowl. With a low hum around them, the bowl began to float on its own accord. Ahsoka stretched her knee — again for his benefit — before plucking up the strength to leap up and soar over him. A moment of sheer exhilaration passed through her as she met his gaze mid-twist. Landing on the small parapet of the balcony allowed her to call the bowl over his head. Granted, the ostentatious show of acrobatics was probably uncalled for. She supposed someone as well-collected as Obi-Wan wouldn't be so flamboyant, but the look of sheer wonder in his eyes at merely the sight of the bowl floating; _that_ called for a lavish show of Force-enhanced gymnastics, surely. Ahsoka unfolded herself from the railing, instead coming to rest in the seat below her. Sure enough, Anakin rushed over, nearly spilling his soup down his front as he did so.

"Wow! That was so wizard! I knew you were a Jedi knight _too!_ "

A laugh shook her chest. "Well, no, not yet."

She stopped. Her smile, where it had been bright and brought a sense of _home_ , fell from her face. How could she forget?

_~I'm sorry, Master. But I won't be coming back.~_

"Well, Mister Qui-Gon's a Jedi Master." He was completely oblivious to her sudden shift. Ahsoka watched him through pained eyes. But then something else occurred to her — Qui-Gon had told the boy _already?_ Well, she knew that eventually Anakin would manage to accompany them back to Coruscant, but her master hadn't been terribly open about other facts. She understood, through his grumbles and quick disregards, that Skyguy wasn't exactly _at home_ speaking about Master Qui-Gon, nor his demise. Master Jinn had seen the raw potential of the Chosen One and brought him to the Temple — it was all she could conclude from the fragmented memories she had.

"I thought Padmé was a Jedi too, but it turns out she's a handmaiden to the Queen of Naboo." A beat. "I wasn't sure about you." His head inclined to the side as he brought a spoonful of soup to his mouth — then another. And another. "Mister Qui-Gon didn't say much about you. But he did say you were in trouble. And that you needed help."

_So thats how we ended up here._

_"_ Well, I'll need to fix that, won't I. I'm Ahsoka Tano." A hand reached out into the thrumming space between them. The gloom of the night cast her colouring into a strange dusky hue, but the soft yellow light of the living room's interior sparked the sun in her skin. A little hand, somehow smaller than hers when they'd first shook, slipped into her own.

The moment of foreboding calm before the pending storm washed away. Anakin's grip tightened and his smile brightened her own when he shook hard. "Anakin Skywalker. Pleased to meet you."

There was no darkness, no ice nor fire tearing up through her middle. Just a pleasant warmth that threatened to spread from his hand to her whole body — until finally, he let go.

Whatever this strange twist of tone and mood was, the sudden calm was more in line with the most recent vision. It seemed at complete odds to the nightmare that landed her here. She'd seen darkness when she'd collapsed on Watto's shop floor, but it hadn't been Anakin. In fact, he had been the force to pull her away from the evil.

There was no threatening vision of Anakin's tormented visage. No heart-shattering scream that pronounced his hatred. No looming sense of loss or desperation. No death, no pain… only Light. Ahsoka flinched. For however briefly it had been allowed to exist in her heart, she knew her instant resolve. She would seek it out again.

"You're a funny little guy." Ahsoka said past a mouthful of soup — she was suddenly determined not to let it grow cold; not to waste the Skywalker's hospitality.

"You're a pretty funny Jedi." He offered in return around his own mouthful. "Where's your laser sword? Mister Qui-Gon let me have a look at his, where's yours?"

"I lost them." There was no harm in telling him that, was there? If she twisted the truth, he'd never know. _Well, not right now, anyway._ If Ahsoka got her way, he'd never have the chance to find out.

"What? How'd you loose them?" Brows furrowed together beneath a sandy-blond fringe. The corner of Ahsoka's mouth curled upwards.

"You ask a lot of questions, Skyguy."

 _Skyguy._ He mouthed the word, as if chewing over a piece of desiccated Bantha meat within the stew. She got the impression he was trying to think up some sort of response to that, until finally, "That's weird."

Ahsoka laughed. "It suits you."

"You could always call me Ani. All my friends do." He took another quick sip of the piping hot meal, his eyes dancing away from her. Ahsoka couldn't stop her smile from spreading. As his eyes racked over the Tatooine horizon and stayed fixed on the shadowed sand dunes, she found herself lowering her head in the attempts to catch his gaze.

"Hey," His head turned to hers tentatively. "How 'bout I call you _both_ Skyguy and Ani. You did save my life after all. I should be allowed to bestow upon my rescuer his own title."

That earned a laugh from the boy, red beginning to creep up past his neck line. Uneven teeth smiled back at her pointed ones. "You're _really_ weird, Ahsoka."

"Ani, let's not offend our guests." Illuminated by the backdrop of yellow, Shmi swept onto the balcony with a smile, two cups and a jug of water. In her peripheral vision, Ahsoka placed Qui-Gon resting by the doorway as Shmi began to pour.

"He's really no problem, Ms Skywalker." She gave the boy a wink when his mother wasn't looking. That earned an incriminating smile that he quelled with pressed lips.

"Please, call me Shmi. Everyone else does." The woman stood straight-backed, the jug resting gently in her hands. Ahsoka couldn't help but stare up at her. _This_ was the woman who had raised Anakin Skywalker from birth. There was such kindness pulsing around her general presence in the Force. It sent Ahsoka to her feet. A measured bow was offered to the woman.

"Thank you for your hospitality, Shmi."

The woman ducked her head, sparing a glance to the doorway she was suddenly eager for. "Well, it's not everyday two Jedi knights arrive on my doorstep. And," She paused, allowing herself to send a forlorn glance at her son who was chewing on the side of his mouth and watching the exchange with shrewd eyes.

She didn't need to finish that sentence. Not as Qui-Gon, who had been an impassive viewer up until now, stepped away from the doorway. He placed a hand on the older woman's arm before leading her back inside again. Ahsoka watched them go, her heart pounding once against her ribcage. Her fists curled.

"Hey 'Soka. You gonna finish that stew?" Ahsoka turned back around, both seeing the boy and not as he inched closer to her bowl. With a smile that never touched her eyes, Ahsoka shook her head. Somewhere in the back of her mind she registered Anakin collecting her bowl to do to her what she'd done to Obi-Wan Kenobi a few days previous.

She understood now, she liked to think. There was pain, discernible and troubling in Shmi's dark eyes when Anakin had commanded her attention.

His mother had been unwanted baggage. A Jedi can't afford attachments — Ahsoka wanted to scoff. The Jedi were so blinded by their adherence to an antiquated code, they hadn't seen the gradual, spiralling decent of their Chosen One. The all consuming darkness had claimed him as one of its own and the Jedi fell, toppling a once mighty Republic and heralding an unwanted dictatorship.

Well, not this time. Not if Ahsoka could have a hand in fate.

"You really sure you're okay? You look like you've seen a ghost." A dirty sleeve wiped clean a stew-covered mouth. Then blue eyes went wide as if some secret had just been shared with him. "Is it those visions that Mister Qui-Gon was talking about? Is that why you knew my name when you saw me? I mean, before you fell over…"

His tirade seemed to die in his mouth, and instead he filled his awkward ending by placing both their empty bowls into the crook of his arm. But before he could collect the spoons, Ahsoka's hands darted out, beating him to it. He gave her an accusatory glare before he found the corners of her mouth curving upwards.

"In a way, it is the visions, Anakin."

"So, you saw _me_ in them?"

She heaved in a lungful of air, and as the air expelled, she placed a hand on his shoulder. Her thumb pressed the fabric of his tunic to her palm. "It's sometimes best not to know _everything,_ little one." His gaze fell down, but a finger and thumb were suddenly at his chin. With care that Anakin could only acquaint to his mother, he found his gaze being lifted to the Jedi's. "But I've learnt neither is it best to let things play out by themselves." Her hand abandoned his chin, instead cupping his ear. Slender fingers slipped through sandy-blond hair. "I did see you, Anakin."

"Was it good?" He asked on soft words, and she knew she wasn't imagining the faint movement as he pressed his head into her hand.

"Almost all of it. Some of it was _magnificent._ "

He could see the pained edges of her eyes. His brows shot up. "How about the other bits?"

"Maybe one day I'll tell you. Right now, I don't have enough — only bits and pieces. Visions aren't usually as _wholesome_ as we'd like." She rolled her eyes. "Sometimes they can be an absolute pain in the buggering ar— _neck_."

Her slip-up earned her a giggle. With a hum of satisfaction, Ahsoka slipped her hand away from his head. It wasn't the whole truth, but he didn't need to hear of the future. No, he never would if she could save him from it. He'd never meet Vader, never feel a need to become him. He could have his mother, her, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan. That would be enough, wouldn't it?

"Ani," A new voice called the boy's head away with a snap. At the new, unforeseen arrival, Anakin's melancholic smile disappeared in favour of giving Padmé an entire account of his teeth with his smile "Your mother says it's bedtime."

"Aww."

"Come on, Skyguy." A motion of carefully unfolded limbs, Ahsoka rose from the chair she'd sat herself in. With a dramatic sigh, Anakin also rose from his seat.

But then, it was as if a switch had been hit, "Come on, I can show you where you'll be sleeping." The boy grabbed her wrist, hauling the Jedi across the balcony and to the doorway, remembering to collect Padmé as he went as well.

"Ani, where are you — "

"I'm just showing Ahsoka and Padmé where they'll be sleeping for the night, mom." He flew through the room, Qui-Gon sparing the two young woman a measured smile as they disappeared around a corner.

"He loves new company." Shmi hummed from behind the Jedi Master before, "Ani, have you set out the spare sleep rug?"

"Of course, mom!" Came the distant reply, which earned a low chuckle from Qui-Gon. Shmi returned the gentle gaze as the taller man faced her once more. Once the chirping of Tatooine's nocturnal life had filled the atmosphere, mixing with the muffled sounds of laughter from the other room and the warm, homely smell of Shmi's cooking, Qui-Gon shook his head. He was never one for sullen silences.

"He's a very special boy." He offered, unfolding the arms over his chest. The look Shmi gave him suggested he'd uncovered a secret.

"Yes, I know."


	13. Breakfast and Prigulian

It was the snoring that woke her from sleep. With bleary eyes and sore muscles, Ahsoka sat up, yawning past the morning taste in her mouth. When the flimsy mattress shifted, and a gentle moan met her hearing, she cringed at the only other occupant of her makeshift bed.

"Sorry." Ahsoka mentally berated herself before sending a suggestion of ' _sleep'_ towards the young Queen. With a sigh from her unintended victim, the blanket left her, baring Ahsoka's legs to the outside world. The Togruta barely managed to stifle her laughter as she rose from the bed, leaving Padmé to hog the blanket.

Checking her chronometer (after she'd been sure to synch it with Tatooine time during the approach) proved it to still be the early hours of the morning. Looking to the right and down proved it to be _Anakin_ , nine-years-old and seemingly innocent, that was the source of all the ruckus. Mouth wide open and strewn across his bedding, the boy was an exact replica of the twenty-two-year-old man of her memories — minus the height, build and maturity, of course.

_Actually, scratch that last bit._

Yawning once more and stretching an arm over her shoulder, Ahsoka began the short trek into the kitchen. The toes of her boots were unforgivably loud against the tiled floor, so she resorted to somewhat half-shuffling and half-sneaking her way to get a glass of water.

She nearly made it a clear foot into the air when Master Qui-Gon cleared his throat from the kitchen sink.

" _Kriff!"_ A hand went to her chest, attempting to calm the sudden thrashing there. In all honesty, he shouldn't be wearing that smug grin. She was sure even he hadn't missed her hands instinctively reaching for lightsabers that simply, _thankfully_ weren't there. If they had been, there was no way of telling what mess they could both be in now. Nor Shmi's tidy kitchen.

"Good morning, Padawan. You slept well, I trust?"

She rose a marking that was perhaps far too inclined towards annoyance. "Probably better than you, Master Jinn. That couch looks roughly half your size."

Qui-Gon knew when his humour had been countered. With a push, he stepped away from the counter with a gentle chuckle and a steaming cup of tea. "The brewer is still hot if you want to help yourself."

He didn't fail to notice as Ahsoka padded past him, a hand still rubbing sleep from her eyes. Through a daze she began the mechanics of making herself a cup of caf, Qui-Gon going to find a seat at the table.

"Will you be returning to the plaza today?" Came her question, barely formed around a yawn. The sooner she downed this cup, the better.

"I began negotiations with Shmi and Anakin's master yesterday." The word _master_ seemed to seethe through the air. Ahsoka bit her tongue between sharp teeth. Qui-Gon furrowed his brows. "There wasn't much progress, but the Toydarian seems to be in possession of the parts we require. I sent Jar Jar with Artoo back to the ship to help Obi-Wan with —"

"Wait," Ahsoka took a sip of her caf, a shiver eliciting its way up her spine. She shuddered past the pleasant tingle. "You sent Jar Jar back to the ship? I thought he was an important part of our deception." Ahsoka sat at the table, the knowing glimmer in her eye chasing away the master's gaze. Pointed teeth were bared when she smiled, Qui-Gon clearing his throat.

"Yes, well, it would have been uncivilised of us to try and fit all of us in the Skywalker's abode. And Jar Jar seemed the most eager to return to the cruiser."

Ahsoka smiled into her mug. "Whatever you say, Master." A sudden thought sent her brows shooting up. "Gosh. Poor Obi-Wan."

That earned a gentle puff of good humour from the Jedi Master. Qui-Gon shook his head, taking another sip of his tea. "Be mindful of your thoughts, young Ahsoka. One might think you actually dislike Jar Jar's bumbling, fumbling and incessantly uncouth nature."

"Hmm… Don't be surprised if we return to the ship and find it on fire." Her caf did an excellent job at muffling her quips.

However, "Yes, with _'Poor Obi-Wan'_ sunk to his knees in the sand before it."

That mental image struck a chord within her, and Ahsoka snorted into her cup. "Don't forget the enraged Captain Panaka and half the desert now hidden in the folds of Queen Amidala's dress."

That one definitely earned a generous laugh from the older man. Something warm slithered its way into her heart, and it wasn't just the hot caf she now craved.

The sudden sound of something slipping against the floor gently pulled their attentions to the doorway. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to intrude." Shmi stood in her bedroom doorway, pulling a robe around herself. Past eyeing the robe that had certainly seen better days, Ahsoka shook her head in incredulity.

"Within your own home? Shmi, if anyone's intruding, it's us."

"Please, Shmi," Qui-Gon was suddenly up and pushing away from the table. The sound of his chair grating across the floor disturbed the morning quiet. "Sit down. Let me fetch you some tea."

It struck her as a very 'Master Kenobi' thing to offer, but yet again, who was she staring at but none other than the man's master? Ahsoka watched as Qui-Gon Jinn hunched over beneath the ceiling to enter the kitchen.

Brows turned upwards on Shmi's weather-worn face, grappling hands stopping the Jedi before he could get very far. "No, please. I need to make breakfast anyway."

"After you've shown us such hospitality? Nonsense."

"It would be terribly un-Jedi-Masterly-like if he didn't offer to make breakfast." Ahsoka finished, accosting the arms of the tired woman and leading her to the table. Ahsoka shot a look over her shoulder, Qui-Gon quirking a brow in return before he began acquainting himself with the layout of the Skywalker's kitchen.

Eventually, Anakin came padding into the common area, wiping sleep from his eyes. He was followed by an equally sleepy looking Padmé, who went straight for the cup of caf Qui-Gon placed on the counter for her. As said Jedi Master slid from one pan to another, looking entirely at home amongst the limited array of pots, pans, and utensils, Ahsoka couldn't help but smile. She supposed it was just another thing that came under the heading 'welcomed surprises', alongside the fact that Obi-Wan Kenobi had once been a padawan and the mysterious mother of Anakin lived up to every kind glimmer and smile of Anakin Skywalker.

But back to the here and now, (and the durasteel fingers of Master Qui-Gon. _That's hot, Master._ ), Master Kenobi's cooking was always something she'd looked forward too. Anakin certainly did. There was certainly more than a few times she'd found the pot roast burnt and Anakin dragging her to the quarters next door. 'Yeah, I tried Snips. Don't worry 'bout it. Obi-Wan will have enough to feed four.' They usually split the Master's meager meal, her and Anakin never failing to receive the bigger portions.

After a while, the dinners seemed to grow bigger and bigger. She wondered if the Force had been whispering in her grandmaster's ear, or he was simply sick of being shortchanged of his dinner once a week.

Of course, there was that one time where Anakin, on routine, _knocked_. The door had slid open just long enough for a plate full of leftovers to be thrusted into his hands. The hallway returned to its serene, stately silence as Anakin had gaped at the door, blinking in disbelief. Ahsoka had to literally brace herself against a wall to stop the laughter. ' _Yeah, come on Ahsoka, before you can go source your food elsewhere.' 'You know, I'm sure Obi-Wan just wants you to go pick something up at the Mess Hall.' 'And get picked up by a sentinel for spilling food in the Temple lobby? Please. Obi-Wan wouldn't want that.'_

Ahsoka was pulled out of the memory by the sight of Qui-Gon delivering brimming pots and pans to the table. Mentally excusing herself, she was on her feet and retrieving plates that Shmi had been extracting from the cupboards. "Ani, would you bring the water jug to the table, please?"

"'course mom!"

"Let me help you, Ani." Padmé side stepped him, gathering up the stacked cups beside the boy with eager eyes and a smile only for the young girl before him.

The whirlwind of preparations resulted in much enthusiasm for Qui-Gon to cook again, Ahsoka agreeing as she stuff— _placed_ another mouthful of the thinly sliced bantha meat into her mouth. Yes, this was definitely where Master Kenobi had gained his culinary expertise. And if she was right, Anakin's broths were his own variation of his mother's.

"You could have died, Ani." From across the table, Padmé Naberrie watched the young Anakin punctuate a part of his adventure through wild gestures. Her observations and turned brows earned a soft chuckle from Shmi Skywalker who watched the exchange.

"Yeah, I could've. But Sebulba didn't see me pull around the third turn. I nearly wiped out his starboard engine!" Another wild hand movement as Anakin mimicked the ' _woosh!'_ of his podracer's chassis. This time it earned a muffled cry as Anakin's sleeve caught against the water canister. Instinct took over for the Jedi seated beside him, and Shmi's worries were allayed. Qui-Gon poured Anakin another cup as the boy continued his wild tale, oblivious to his actions as he shared his account with the captivated Padmé.

"Ani, that sounds awfully dangerous." The handmaiden took a sip of the murky water to chase away the dry taste of the bread-paste.

"Well, I'm the only human who can do it." At the puff of his chest, Ahsoka smiled into her paste. Some things never truly changed.

"They have podracing on Malastare." Qui-Gon finally joined the conversation, eyes wandering to Shmi's end of the makeshift table. With a sniff, he inspected the varying degree of leftovers. "Very fast, very dangerous."

When the Jedi Master began collecting empty plates and cups, Ahsoka gathered pots and pans. Anakin smiled up at them both. "Watto says he's never heard of another human doing it before."

"Ani…" His mother inclined her head, her chastising tone not lost on the boy.

"But mom! It's true."

"So Skyguy. What happened to Watto's last pod?"

Blue eyes, narrowed and accusatory, met Ahsoka's smirk from the opposing side of the table. "I didn't mean to roll it. It was Sebulba's fault."

However, as Ahsoka's smile grew and Anakin appeared as though his closest friend had betrayed him, it was Padmé's chuckle that assuaged the boy's nerves. "Ahsoka's just poking fun, Anakin. She doesn't mean anything by it."

When he passed by, Ahsoka ran a hand through his hair. It did prove to be somewhat difficult when the pots had to be saved by a stretch of the Force.

"I still think you're strange, Ahsoka."

When she inclined her head, a lekku dipped into the pot she clung to. "Thanks, Skyguy."

Once in the kitchen, Ahsoka grabbed the towel off the sink facet to rid her lekku of Qui-Gon's bread paste. Said Jedi Master was busy loading all the dirtied kitchen-wear into the sink. It became some poorly-timed dance when all five of them tried occupying Shmi's poky kitchen. When Qui-Gon passed a clean plate to Shmi's awaiting hand, Ahsoka cajoled Padmé and Anakin out of the way.

"Are you going back to the shop today?" Shmi's question was punctuated by a ' _clink'_ as the plate was stacked beside the sink. Qui-Gon nodded.

"Yes, we need those parts." The sonic tap blared away in the background, Shmi nodding absently.

Her cracked lips pressed together. "You could always try another store." From the growing stack of plates to the side, her tired eyes turned to the Jedi Master. "Not many people around here accept Republic Credits."

From folded arms upon the counter, Ahsoka offered her input. "If not all of them." 

"It's an option we'll have to explore, of course." Qui-Gon scrubbed another pot.

Blocking out a chattering Anakin, who's conversation was mostly directed towards the girl paying the most attention, Ahsoka quirked a concerned brow. "We're not going to get very far without R2 and the readouts. Did you manage to contact Obi-Wan this morning, Master?"

With the pot in hand, Qui-Gon turned his head. "No, it seems the dust storm yesterday wiped out our communicators."

_Great. So how's this one gonna turn out?"_

"Not to worry, Ahsoka. I told Artoo to be in Mos Espa by 0900 hours."

The Togruta began untangling herself from the two children beside her and pushed away from the uneven counter. "I'm guessing you told him to wait by the store."

"No, he would attract too much attention there. I instructed him to remain just outside the perimeters of the port and wait for us there."

Trying not to twist her lip into a lopsided smile, a single laugh shook her shoulders. "Artoo's not gonna like the sand," she muttered, just as Qui-Gon was hanging up the last pan.

"Hmm, perhaps not. Either way, we shall be heading out to barter with Watto. I offered to accompany Anakin back into town." Qui-Gon dipped his head to Shmi, the woman giving in return a smile that didn't quite meet her eyes. "It is a pity I cannot offer you anything more."

"It's perfectly fine. You're most welcome." With a soft smile that finally managed to crinkle the corners of her eyes, Shmi turned to her son. The boy was mid-demonstration of… ' _how to fix a broken exhaust funnel mid-flight, Padmé. You never know.'_. Ahsoka laughed. She'd received that lesson before. But as Padmé had to practically place a hand on Anakin's shoulder and turn him around, Ahsoka got the distinct impression that it was the young Queen who tried to shift the focus of Anakin's tutorial.

"Shmi. There must be some way we can repay you for your kindness." Padmé's gaze settled on the woman, and Ahsoka huffed. She knew that expression — nothing was going to deter her. However, It seemed that despite only knowing the girl for merely more than twelve hours, Shmi understood the serious set of the girl's gaze.

"Well, I've been meaning to visit the markets and buy some more prigulian jams. I would have sent Ani," she moved to a shelf set in the wall beside her, pulling loose a rock from the crumbling beige. Weather-worn hands reached in to pull out a dilapidated box. "But the slave auctions are just next door." Having retrieved what she wanted, the box was put back in place and covered by the rock again. Shmi turned around and gently lifted the girl's hand. A cruel juxtaposition between lifestyles was revealed with the action. In Shmi's tanned and over-worked palm lay the delicate and soft hand of Padmé Amidala, the fingernails perfectly manicured and skin like gossamer. A sudden vice around Padmé's heart saw her want to snatch her hand away, but she allowed the flow of guilt to seep through her. Shmi placed the few flimsy credits she had in Padmé's palm, curling her fingers over with the tenderness only a mother could possess. "Anakin's gotten himself into trouble more than once there. I'm reluctant to ever send him back."

"They're awful over there. They're… they're—"

"Vile?" Ahsoka offered.

"Yeah, _v_ _ile."_ He spat it out, Ahsoka's eyes catching sight of the boy's fists curling by his sides.

"What flavoured prigulian do you like?" Padmé's careful smile failed to lighten the mood, not as her eyebrows gently turned in sorrow. A hand, just as rough and as calloused as it had been against her palm, now cupped her cheek. It was barely there for a fleeting moment before Shmi's hands were resting on Padmé's shoulders.

As if sensing his mother's distress (which he most likely did) Anakin was suddenly by Padmé's side. "What flavoured prigulian do _you_ like?"

Shmi's hands fell to her sides. Ahsoka watched the boy take his new friend back to the sleeping quarters (most likely to retrieve anything they needed for the day), and gave the back of his head a rueful smile. _Still the same old Anakin._ _Always eager to fix any problem. Always sweet on Senator Amidala._

 _~Ahsoka... There is still... light_ — _light in him.~_

"You should go get ready, Padawan. Something tells me we have a big day ahead of us."

Ahsoka didn't bother to spare the man a smile, she merely nodded. "Yes, Master."


	14. "And what would you care for, my dear?"

"… Yeah, and she saw me in them. A Jedi saw me in her visions."

With the early morning sun still reminiscent of a molten press crushing them all, and the sand trying its best to work its way between their toes (despite the boots), the party of four trudged their way towards the business end of Mos Espa. Where she had been giving their conversation half an ear, Ahsoka's brow markings quirked. Since when had their conversation turned to her?

"But don't Jedi have visions all the time?" From her position beside Anakin, Padmé's eyes snapped up to her Jedi protectors. Anakin's gaze followed hers, settling on the taller man and shooting Ahsoka a smile. Said ex-padawan smiled back with no explanation to give. 

"The Force works in mysterious ways, young ones." Qui-Gon offered instead, his hair slowly frizzing around his shoulders as he walked. While he took the full brunt of the sun and heat, for the shorter members of their party, he offered some form of forgiving shade. Ahsoka pulled her poncho up around her neck.

"Is that why you keep collapsing, Ahsoka?" _Oh no_ … Something flashed behind Padmé's eyes, even brighter than Tatooine's twin suns. Ahsoka wanted to place a spanner somewhere in the whirring cogs of her mind.

"Yes, it's pretty much like that. They're pretty volatile. Master Qui-Gon offered to keep an eye on me… until we can get back to the Temple and make sense of some of all this."

A group of rough characters sauntered past, and without warning, Ahsoka found herself slamming her shields up as they passed by — a purely instinctual reaction which left her dazed. It was if someone had gone to hit her, and she'd flinched, or moved to defend herself. The nonexistent hairs on the back of her head stood on end, the Force breathing a warning down her spine. When her eyes turned to Master Qui-Gon, his gaze had also homed in on the passing figures. A large hand was placed on her shoulder, directing her attention back towards the approaching plaza. His profile was cast in shade by the sun. "Try not to pay it any heed, Ahsoka. I think it would be best to make these dealings quick and easy."

There was no point in asking if he had sensed it or not — his reaction alone spoke of his unease. Despite his almost casual dismissal, something told her Qui-Gon was processing the unfolding situation. "What do you suppose it is, Master?" she all but whispered up to him, careful not to alarm the other two members of their party.

"I'm not sure, Padawan. But keep your concentration on the here and now. I'll need you for today."

That sent a spark of warmth through her, despite the sudden cold that had settled at her fingertips.

Darkness had slowly been creeping into her waking hours, settling at the edges of her vision. It flooded her dreams, showing glimpses of a terrible evil that waited to engulf the galaxy whole. Ahsoka had grated her teeth and made a promise to do something, but what could she do? She had half-formed memories; recalled accounts of these proceedings which may or may not have been exaggerated. Personally knowing the company that set these events in motion didn't help — she certainly couldn't tell when Anakin was exaggerating. Understanding his daily life experiences, being eaten by a rancor and cutting his way out of its stomach didn't seem farfetched.

But she did know one definite of this event. So in turn, she had her suspicions of what was awaiting them once they left this planet.

Master Kenobi had been the first Jedi in a millennium to kill a Sith. It was a well know fact, an act of heroics that Jedi younglings regarded with such awe that it was impossible for Ahsoka not to be asked what it was like to be padawaned to the legendary Skywalker-Kenobi duo.

That was, until Darth Maul crawled out of that pit, even more deranged and psychotic than when Master Obi-Wan had put him down there. Wreaking havoc across the galaxy and slaughtering any that stood in his way — Ahsoka had been sure to sit with Master Kenobi with a good cup of tea after that one. That had been a sullen affair; not many words had been spoken. Anakin had already paid his condolences, even offering to talk through the Duchess' passing with Obi-Wan without actually saying he would; Obi-Wan wouldn't like her master's blatant show of affection. Unsurprisingly, Anakin's indirect offer was never taken up. She found Master Kenobi sat in his quarters and meditating when she came over to share a new brew of tea she thought he'd like.

Ever the good Jedi that he was.

A sliver of coldness snaked into Ahsoka's heart. Impassive grey eyes stared at her from above a court of the corrupt.

"Ahsoka?" She shook herself from her memories, finding herself entering the sandy, hazy plaza of Mos Espa. Her nose crinkled. It was a dusty hell-hole, no doubt about it. "Ahsoka, are you alright?" Blue eyes met brown.

"Yeah, I'm fine Master Qui-Gon. You don't need to worry 'bout me."

A goodnatured laugh accompanied the smile settling around Qui-Gon's eyes and bearded chin. "Something tells me that the day I stop worrying over you, Ahsoka, will be a special day indeed."

Her boots came to a stop in the sand then and there. She wanted to smile, the desire was almost overwhelming. Almost. Instead, her brows turned upwards and the line of her lips fell. Anakin and Padmé passed her by, somewhat ladened down by the sole concentration of simply getting to the shop. That was, until Anakin stopped. Confused eyes turned to her.

"'Soka? Are you comin'?"

She stared past him, the brief moments Qui-Gon's back ensnared her gaze becoming enough to relive that morning within. When the rest of the ragtag group of Skywalkers, Queens and Jedi left the Skywalker residence, Ahsoka had stopped in the kitchen to finish latching her glove back in place. Her fingers traced a lightsaber burn she'd received earlier that week evading Ventr— _Barriss_ ' attack. The laugh of her nine-year-old Master called her gaze outside. The window was speckled with dirt, muggy in the corners of the transpariteel pane, but she could still make out the sight of Anakin sharing something amusing with the Jedi Master (at least what he thought was amusing). In return, the man simply folded his arms and offered the boy an indulging smile. A hand emerged from the poncho to gently rest on Anakin's shoulder.

...

Within a week the man would be dead. Within a week, a young man who'd barely stopped being a boy, would be left to care for the child out the window. His mother would die a death no one deserved, and so would the young girl smiling so softly upon them all.

Qui-Gon's gaze had met hers through the window.

Her stomach had rolled, and her heart had sunk.

Anakin's smile rivalled that of the happiest youngling. She'd been given a lopsided wave by the boy, Qui-Gon quirking a brow beyond the muggy window.

She had to do something.

"The galaxy itself to Ahsoka Tano. Come in, over." Something not only shook her arm, but her very concentration from her thoughts. Somewhere in the miscellaneous part of her mind, Ahsoka realised that between the fits and zoning out, she had to stop it.

"Ahsoka Tano, this is Rogue Leader, come in, over. Skywalker to Tano, radio in!"

"Alright, Skyguy. There's no need to alert the entire squadron." A gloved hand curled around his shoulder when she stepped into him. Again, he offered her an incredulous look.

"Well, maybe you actually responding would help, 'Soka. I was gonna get Mister Qui-Gon to come have a look at you." A finger poked into her hip and prompted an offended 'ow!' from the recipient. "You just sorta stopped working."

As they caught up to the two remaining members of their party that hadn't been phased by Ahsoka's sudden pause, the once-padawan was half tempted to chastise him. _'I'm not an engine of yours that needs fixing, Skyguy'_ would have sufficed, but the boy didn't deserve it. No, he didn't deserve the many things that had befallen him in life.

"Mister Qui-Gon sir! Where are you going? Watto's store's this way." Anakin's confusion was proof in itself to how much attention he had been paying to that morning's discussions.

With a weary smile, Ahsoka directed his shoulder after the towering Jedi Master. "Come on. We need to pick up someone before we go any further."

"Would that someone be roughly three-foot two, chrome, and very talkative?"

…

Ahsoka wouldn't lie. She almost did a doubletake when the voice cut off anything that would have come out of Anakin's mouth. Whirring around, her eyes failed to place a face to the shadowed figure. However, waiting for her vision to adjust to the shade was unnecessary to know who lounged before them, boots kicked up on the cheap table.

Qui-Gon was a good distance in front, closely followed by a handmaiden who Ahsoka suspected was more than annoyed at the sun. However, the figure inclining in the shade of the tarp-sail smiled up at her. A glass of something was brought to his lips.

Ahsoka folded her arms.

"Yes, he would be. And now he's seemingly accompanied by a Jedi Padawan who takes delight in jumping his friends —while sipping on something he probably shouldn't be sipping on this early in the morning. Where'd you get the credits, anyway?"

From the table he sat at, Obi-Wan Kenobi unfolded his ankles and sat up straight. The chair he inclined in landed on all four legs once more as grey eyes, decidedly more mischievous than she remembered leaving them, peered up at her.

"The bartender here thankfully takes Republic Credits in small amounts. Something about running short trips into the Inner Rim and needing loose change, I believe." A smile quirked the corner of his lips. "Its only Plotor Juice, Ahsoka. Care for a cup?"

At the all too familiar question, Ahsoka's eyes darted away. Instead, they came to land on the sandy-blond hair of Anakin Skywalker… the intensity of his confusion still hadn't died down yet.

"Ahsoka. I don't wish to alarm you, but I believe you're being shadowed by a youngling."

Ahsoka resisted the urge to roll her eyes as she ushered Anakin before her. "Anakin Skywalker, meet—" she threw a hand towards the copper-haired padawan. However, what began as an automatic bid to facilitate introductions saw her hand freezing on Anakin's wrist. Obi-Wan's eyes darted to hers. The words were merely breath in her mouth.

Obi-Wan found something akin to a lost smile meeting his gaze, accompanied by the imploring gaze of this Anakin Skywalker.

"Obi-Wan Kenobi." He stood, reaching out a hand across the sand covered table to encourage Anakin's. Ahsoka was clearly never going to be able to finish that, whatever had started. Truth be told, when her hand had tightened around the boy's wrist and her attention was nabbed by something unseen to the rest of them, he'd been ready to dive forward and catch her before she'd make the ground. However, Anakin's hand slipped sedately into his, and Ahsoka breathed a sigh, a smile illustrating her approval of their exchange.

"Hello." The boy blinked in the suns, half his face immersed in the shade, but the other still doused in the murderous light of Tatoo One and Two. Ahsoka released her death grip on the boy, finally seeming to step out of the reality only she could see, and back to the sandy plains of Tatooine.

"Sorry, Anakin. This is Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi padawan to Master Qui-Gon."

"—Who wants to know why his padawan is here, rather than where he was instructed to wait."

Ahsoka was cast in a cool shade when Qui-Gon finished striding towards them, Padmé tucked neatly behind him. Obi-Wan instinctually lowered into a bow.

"Master, it was too high a risk to send the astromech droid by himself into the port, not with, what…" his eyes darted around the foreign plaza, "half the Outer Rim's scum and villainy congregated here? Sending Jar Jar would have been asking for attention,"

"Not to mention somewhat useless if a struggle were to kick up." Ahsoka offered as she rested a hand on her hip.

"Yes, so I deemed it best to accompany the droid myself." he finished with another bow of his head. A smile tugged on Ahsoka's lips.

"A good call, my young apprentice." Qui-Gon unfolded his arms from his indignant stance, stepping back as his padawan stepped forward and out of the shadow. The sun assaulted his eyes as his master turned away. "Perhaps I can put you to good use, padawan." At the lift of Obi-Wan's brows, Ahsoka heard the thought even though it was never spoken aloud. She'd come to memorise most of Master Kenobi's nuances. This one usually signified _interesting_ or _never would have guessed_. Depending on the situation, of course.

"Anyway I can be of help, Master Jinn?" She spoke up, calling the attention of both Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan.

"Actually, yes."

Just behind them, Anakin pulled Padmé into another bout of _'why podracing is so cool'_ and _'what's your home planet like?_ ' as Qui-Gon lead them through the plaza.

"While this toydarian seems to be in possession of the parts we need, I believe it would be best if we try other options."

"See if we're being swindled or not." Obi-Wan blinked in the sunlight.

"And what's the likelihood of that?" Ahsoka rolled her eyes, as Qui-Gon hummed in agreement.

"That's why I want you two to go make enquiries. Report back if you find anything."

The two padawans shared a brief glance — acknowledgement — before they were both offering a bow to the Jedi Master. "Of course, Master."

Unison. That garnered a strange twist of Qui-Gon's lips before he'd stopped in the shade Watto's overhang offered. Padmé and Anakin ventured inside, unhindered by the lacking company. Outside, however, a brief flash of cold passed between the Jedi.

"I want you to exercise caution, padawans." It wasn't solely the heat of Tatooine's twin suns that pressed down on them. "I sense something."

"Yes, I sense it too, Master. Somewhere… elsewhere…. _elusive_." Obi-Wan furrowed his brows, a hand emerging from the folds of his discoloured poncho to run along his braid. He absently twirled a bead between finger and thumb.

But at the sudden change in tone, Ahsoka unfolded her arms. "Master, maybe there's something you should know."

When both their eyes shot to her, widened and somewhat perplexed, Ahsoka shook her head. It was easy to guess what conclusions they were coming to, but no. She wouldn't tell them of the future. In all honesty, she could offer little insight to the current situation, other than _how_ they'd managed to procure the parts for the hyperspace generator. It had something to do with the four-foot-nine Anakin Skywalker she could just see past the frame of the doorway; his piloting skills; and a knack for finding trouble that would ensure his presence in the Jedi Order, and their hearts.

"Ahsoka. Whatever advice or warning you're—"

"No, Master, it's not that." A beat. "I had a vision."

There was no sarcastic comment or observation from Obi-Wan — somehow she'd been expecting it. Instead, Qui-Gon calmly folded his arms. "Judging by your desire to share this vision with us, you've seen events that you are unfamiliar with."

Ahsoka offered her affirmation by squeezing her eyes shut, before opening them again. "I'm not sure what it was, only that I've never seen or heard of it before. It wasn't of the future I know."

Qui-Gon simply harrumphed after a long breath, his padawan watching on with keen eyes. "Perhaps it would be wise to share this, then. However, keep in mind that your presence here, Ahsoka, has undoubtedly begun to change events. It is possible you have already set a new future in motion."

Obi-Wan's eyes shot to hers then, and Ahsoka blinked back before turning once more to the towering frame of Qui-Gon. "I saw the caravan, Master, the one we were watching yesterday. On the horizon." Recognition flared in his brown eyes. "But they'd stopped for the night. I'm supposing the dust storm forced them to... they were huddled around the transports for protection. But there was one, shrouded in darkness."

"She tumbled down the sand dune." Obi-Wan muttered, finally letting go of his braid. His arms fell together within the folds of his poncho, his gaze rising from the sandy ground beneath their boots to settle on the blue of his friend's.

"How did you—?" she started, eyes narrowing at him.

"I'm supposing your self proclaimed mandate to protect the astromech wasn't the only reason for you joining us, was it Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon spared an estranged glance for the plaza beyond as Obi-Wan ducked his head.

"No, Master."

The older man let out a defeated huff. There was certainly more to Obi-Wan's presence and nervous glances to the girl beside him, but this was neither the time nor place. Something itched at the back of his neck, the Living Force swirling in muted warning. "We'll continue this later. Have you both got your communicators?"

"Yes, Master."

"Right here, Master Jinn."

As Ahsoka's communicator flashed in the sun, Qui-Gon smiled. "Alright. We'll meet back here by 1500 hours."

"Hopefully sooner. I don't fancy spending another day on this planet." Obi-Wan quipped, but the gripe earned him an arched brow from Ahsoka.

"Which one is it? Jar Jar or the sliders?"

"The heat, more like." His expression soured as he curled his lip at the surrounding plaza. 

She shook her head, but stilled when she felt Qui-Gon's gaze on her. However, there was something, she'd say, _mischievous_ in his eyes when the corner of his mouth turned up. "Keep an eye on him, Ahsoka. Obi-Wan has a knack for getting himself into particularly troubling situations without trying."

Her smile grew tenfold, her pointed teeth on display for all. "Will do, Master."

At her brow waggle, Obi-Wan scoffed. "What?"

"You're alright, Kenobi." She smiled, waving a dismissive hand towards her grandmaster. "But before we leave, I have to talk with Padmé."

And as she slipped into the store, she felt Qui-Gon follow her in. Ahsoka breathed in the cool air, feeling the heat brush off her like water off a grituck's back. Padmé gestured her over with eager eyes when she found the padawan in the entrance. Ahsoka gladly obliged her.

"Padmé,"

"Hmm?" The younger girl smiled up at her, glancing once to where Anakin shared a fast-paced exchange with his master. The fat Toydarian buzzed around the small boy, all the while scratching his chin and making wild gestures. Anakin folded his arms and frowned up at the alien.

"I'm heading out with Obi-Wan to search for the parts we need elsewhere." Ahsoka said.

"A wise plan, perhaps." Padmé's gaze remained on Anakin — Ahsoka got the distinct impression that Padmé wasn't exactly fond of the entire situation. Slavery, Ahsoka could imagine, was an adverse concept to the young queen of a liberal planet. It was adverse to anyone who had a heart.

"I wish you luck."

"Thank you." Ahsoka dipped her head. "But I thought perhaps I could do you a favour."

"How so?"

Qui-Gon passed them by, heading for Watto with Artoo in tow. The blue alien seemed surprised to see the Jedi Master again, buzzing backwards with wide arms as he chuckled. Ahsoka paid the spoken Huttesse little heed — it deserved little attention — before Padmé's gaze was back on her again.

"We'll be heading out towards the slave auctions. I thought Obi-Wan and I could pick up the prigulian while we're there."

Recognition flared in Padmé's eyes, but as the girl went to retrieve the little credits that Shmi could spare, she hesitated. With a desolate smile, Ahsoka placed an arm to the sleeve of Padmé's peasant garb. That flow of cold again coursed over the young queen's arm, the reassurance and calm pressing to her skin like a cool breeze. She offered Ahsoka a mental thank you, hoping the Jedi padawan could sense her thanks. And with a calmer resolve, her hand continued to retrieve the credits and place them into Ahsoka's awaiting palm.

"Good luck. And be careful."

"Thank you, and I will. May the Force be with you, Padmé." Ahsoka bowed as she made her exit. Padmé watched her go, unable to stop the growing sense that she'd somehow failed Anakin's mother by not going out and doing the chore herself. But, as Ahsoka said, she and Kenobi were headed that way, and… Mos Espa wasn't exactly the most hospitable of places for a young woman, let alone the Queen of Naboo. It would be foolish to go out herself. Anakin would have been of little help if he'd accompanied, despite his big heart. Padmé sighed as she turned back to the exchange just outside the back entrance to Watto's store. It was best that the two padawans went and retrieved the prigulian, and she stay under the protection of Master Jinn, and out of suspicion's way.

Meanwhile, outside the junk shop, Ahsoka finished tucking the meager amount of credits into her utility belt. The heat once again slathered itself to her skin and Ahsoka curled her lips in disgust.

"Will we be making a detour to the slave auctions?" Obi-Wan joined her side, and Ahsoka spared him a glance.

"Yes. While I don't doubt Padmé could handle herself if she got into a situation," she shook her head, her hands falling away from her belt. "I don't like the idea of sending her out by herself. It'd be too dangerous."

"No, you're right. The idea of her wandering around the streets of Mos Espa… It's not exactly comforting."

"Exactl— _u_ _rgh."_ The Force pulsed, a blaster bolt through her skull. With a hand to her head, Ahsoka tried to deflect the invisible blow. " _Force."_ An awkward footfall sent her world spinning, the beige of the sand merging with the blue sky, and she would have met the ground if it hadn't been for the wall of tunic she fell into.

_"Ahsoka."_

Strong hands gripped her, ponchoed arms pulling her away from the searing sand and back to reality. This was an all-too familiar position, Obi-Wan had the bruise on his hip to prove it. However, Ahsoka waved off his caution with a well-meaning frown. No, it wasn't another fit. But if their current arrangement said anything, then something was most certainly hammering against the mind of their mysterious charge.

"It's nothing. I'm okay."

"Are you sure?"

She fell away from him, hands now tentatively brushing her montrals. She seethed once, but soon dismissed the strain and regathered her composure. "Yeah, I'm good. It's just — " Her eyes went to the horizon of sand just beyond the plaza and space port. Obi-Wan followed suite, and as he stretched himself through the Force, he felt a pin-sharp point begin to needle at his presence as well. Shields were rammed up just as Ahsoka once again fortified her own.

There was _something_ , no doubt. Ahsoka turned her gaze back to her grandmaster, who was merely a padawan. "You said we shared the same vision last night. You saw it too."

Obi-Wan absently gnawed on the side of his mouth, and Ahsoka saw him weighing unseen options in his mind. Whatever came out of his mouth next, she knew she wasn't hearing the entire truth. In some ways, she could live with that. It wasn't like she wasn't keeping her own secrets.

"I saw the convoy, and the figure you spoke of."

Ahsoka folded her arms over herself, her gaze once again settling on the bustling plaza. "You said she tumbled down the sand dunes."

"Yes. She stood facing you at the bottom. I couldn't see her face, but I could see your's." he replied.

At this, she spared Obi-Wan a glance. And as her arms tightened around her waist, Obi-Wan could see the suspicion whirring behind her eyes. She bit down on her lip. "So the Force showed us the same vision, but from differing views." That was a change — the last vision she'd shared with Obi-Wan, she'd stood as her grandmaster on the banks of Mustafar, staring into the face of the fallen Anakin Skywalker.

Ahsoka flinched away from the assaulting memory.

"It would seem."

"I wonder why?" A hand came up to stroke at her chin, her boots reshuffling her weight in the sand. Obi-Wan watched on till eventually Ahsoka pressed her lips together and shook her head. Her hands fell away, but her frown remained. _This has nothing to do with Anakin… I don't know what this is._

It was alarming; unsettling almost. In the face of Anakin, while she couldn't see a clear path to saving him, she knew who and what she was dealing with. With this… It wasn't Maul, she knew that much. Maul, she could predict. _This…_ she was blind.

"Come on." Ahsoka smoothed her poncho back into place as she turned away. Obi-Wan fell in step beside her as they began their trek across the plaza.

Whatever was awaiting them… she just hoped they'd be prepared. It seemed she no longer had the advantage of hindsight.

* * *

After several hours spent walking in and out of the heat of Tatooine and the cool of every junk shop this side of the planet, Ahsoka Tano was about ready to call it a day and journey back to the cruiser (whether Obi-Wan was following or not). She'd threatened to collapse in the sand, but her companion's constant jabs kept her upright. When her boots began to reach impossible temperatures, she'd stopped Obi-Wan and pulled them both into the shade to continue walking. Thankfully Obi-Wan was happy to indulge her.

By midday, she was sure they'd walked the entire circumference of Mos Espa, and had precisely nothing to show for it… other than a headache and varying degrees of a suntan. They'd been laughed at, poked at, and snapped at by burly customers that she she'd been quick to snap back at. She was sure Obi-Wan was just as amused at her ignoring him as he tried to step in, as she was when he _did_ try to save her. Of course, he was a gentleman… so she made no comment except a 'thank you' when they walked away, leaving the patron jumping from foot to foot and cradling his shin.

Despite their best efforts to blend into the crowd of scum in the space port, they managed to draw attention to themselves. Perhaps it was the ridiculous assumed guise of bounty-hunters that Obi-Wan thought would be prudent. "Bounty-hunters? Pah! I know bounty-hunters when I sees 'em, kiddo. You two are nothing but a bunch of Inner Rim larvae come snooping for adventure."

They'd obviously made no progress there, so Obi-Wan had been eager to move them onto the next junk-store. The entire afternoon had been a litany of 'spot the Jedi padawans' and 'try down the road'.

"Now what would two Coruscanti kids want with a hyperdrive generator for, what'd'ya say? _Nubian?"_

"You're rather classy to be 'hunters, aren't ya'?"

"Next time, kids, don't try so hard."

Oh, but the pièce de résistance had to be, " _You kids got stranded on Tatooine mid-honeymoon? Pft. What bad luck! My wife and I were stranded on Felucia when we went on our first honeymoon. I tell you, nothing beats waking to the sight of…"_

Ahsoka had zoned the gibbering Rodian out. Instead, her eyes began to roam the chaotic shop in feigned interest. It was easier to leave the man to his own conclusions rather than correct him and draw even more attention to themselves. Ahsoka would have to sit and stew as _Mrs Kenobi_ for a few minutes. ( _"What's your name, boy?" "Oh, Obi-Wan Kenobi." "So you must be Mrs Kenobi." "No, the name's Ahsoka—." "Ahsoka Kenobi." The alien clucked his tongue as if trying out the ridiculous name. "Erh, I've heard worse.")_ After that, her _husband_ ( _Urgh._ Ahsoka did not resist the urge to roll her eyes) had been quick to ascertain that, "Nope, sorry kids. Don't have what'cha lookin' for. But if you really need to get back to the Inner Rim, you might wanna try the cantinas. There's always someone willin' to trade work with safe passage. But be careful with the exact definition of _work._ You don't wanna be sharing your bed! Haha! Know what I mean?"

Ahsoka was both tired and sick of this wild bantha chase by the time they'd finished up their useless undertaking. While originally she'd shared hopes with Master Qui-Gon that they could possibly find what they were looking for elsewhere… No, it seemed the Force was adamant that they go through Watto to escape. Ahsoka rolled her eyes for not the umpteenth time that afternoon. They should just stick Anakin in a pod and get it over and done with already. She'd organise the race, just let them leave this Force-forsaken planet already.

"I hate to say it," Obi-Wan scrunched his face as they stepped back into the sun. "But it seems our Toydarian dealer is the only one here that has what we need."

"Convenient." Ahsoka rolled her eyes (again). When Obi-Wan looked back at her, she was somewhat expecting him to reprimand her huff with at least a pointed brow; but no. As he turned away, Ahsoka was sure she hadn't imagined the desolate smile that twisted his lips. They were both in the same boat, hurtling fast towards heat exhaustion and Mos Boredom.

Ahsoka crinkled her nose. Thank the Force she'd decided not to say that one aloud.

"Come on, I think we've deserved a break." she grumbled instead. Turning away, Ahsoka dropped her hands away from where they had been worrying the edges of her fraying poncho. It wouldn't do to adopt a more nervous habit of hers now — say, _talking_ or _biting her fingernails._ It'd taken a while to grow out of that one. Surprisingly, Anakin hadn't been a fan of her more juvenile tendencies — hypocrite.

"We'll have to start heading back soon if we're to meet Qui-Gon by 1500 hours." Again, Obi-Wan fell in step beside her. Ahsoka nodded her head, about to share her agreement when suddenly,

_"—fine stock! Fresh from the Zygra System!"_

The call, loud and raucous, carried over the droves of people and unending sand to reach their ears. Ahsoka's montrals had no trouble discerning the commotion from where they stood, and even Obi-Wan seemed to send an apprehensive glance to the plaza around the upcoming bend.

"The slave auctions." Arms came up on their own volition to battle the sudden chill that had settled within her. Despite the heat, it was as though someone had doused her in water. But regardless the connotations, there was no relief to be found. Just an ugly memory of electrified collars, snarling feline faces and dangling thousands of feet above a city floor.

Ahsoka clenched her jaw. _Zygra._

"Ahsoka?"

Was she biting down that hard? Her view of the corner which withheld the auctions was abruptly swallowed by a sway of tan and beige robes. Obi-Wan Kenobi's face appeared in her line of vision, immediately coming up at odds with the memory of a bruised and tortured face, blood marring an overgrown beard and eyes beaten to a cold silver.

"Ahsoka, we're blocking traffic."

"Ha? Oh."

Something collided with her shoulder, then another something, before she was being pulled to Obi-Wan's side and walked down the road. The air smelt of sorrow; sweat; _fear_. Ahsoka tried to pay little heed to the bodies that pressed to her side. They were merely creatures in search of blood… something to torment and parade about.

No wonder Anakin was forbidden to come here.

"My friends, do not fear the trandoshans. They are no different to any other slave! They can and _will_ be broken." The slaver lauded above a crowd of eager listeners. Ahsoka was reminded of the circus performance she had seen on Skarrat III once with Anakin… this Zygerrian slaver presented his slaves like the ring master did his performers.

"Slaver scum." Ahsoka spat out from under her breath.

" _You,_ my dear! What do you fancy?"

The metaphorical stage light was suddenly on her, the acrobats neatly folding away behind hidden curtains as centre stage was given to her. Ahsoka choked on the bile settling in the back of her throat. The bloodthirsty and impersonal crowd was suddenly facing her.

"Yes, _you_ … and your _friend._ Your husband? _Owner?_ " The Zygerrian laughed. "No, no… Forgive me. You're too well kept. Husband it is then. But what do you desire?" Ahsoka saw darkness. "Perhaps a child?"

The shoulder merely brushing at her side became a solid wall when Obi-Wan stepped into her. She found the laughing face of the Zygerrian scum merging and fading with the crowd.

"It's a despicable practice…" Obi-Wan tore his gaze away, and in the manner that he did suggested it had been a challenge to do so. She supposed it was like the old saying Anakin was fond of using — " _It's like a podracer crash — you just can't look away_ ". It was cruel that the idiom applied to the current situation. "And it's even more despicable that this galaxy still hasn't seen fit to abolish it." Obi-Wan finished off with a heated frown.

Ahsoka let the padawan steer her away, but the change of scenery did nothing to remove the image of electro-whips and the wicked cackle of Zygerrian's slavers. She felt the harsh cord rip and burn into her back. Her head snapped away on its own accord.

"Ahsoka? Are you alright?"

They'd come to a stop between two stalls, away from the slowly dwindling crowd winding through the main street and away from them. When had they stopped? Looking up revealed the familiar grey of her grandmaster's eyes staring into her, imploring her… she blinked away the memory of the forty-year old man, and instead came face to face with the twenty-five-year-old padawan.

A warm hand pressed to her wrist — Ahsoka's gaze snapped down, instinct wanting to send her hands snapping back to the safety of her sides. Obi-Wan's grip tightened, just enough to still her worry. "It's alright. It's only me."

When he peeled one hand away from the other, she saw the red marks, raw and angry along her wrists. Had she done that?

"Careful." He turned her wrists gently in his hands, a frown creasing his brows. _Concern_ …

Ahsoka's jaw fell with unformed words.

His gaze met hers again briefly, before a hand was pressing over the marks. Then came the swirl of the Force, the familiar hum seeming to resonate in their bones, before his hand was falling away once more. And there, no longer angry nor red, her tanned skin sported a stream of white marks.

"You'll need to put bacta on that when we get back to the cruiser. Who knows what infectious microspores Tatooine's atmosphere harbours."

Ahsoka knew this part. Obi-Wan was playing off his kindness by putting on a pretentious front — or as Anakin like to call it, "Distracting with big words. You sometimes have to remember to thank Obi-Wan — he'll only prompt you in jest." This was usually followed by a sad smile. "But he does deserves all the thanks we can give him."

Ahsoka shared Anakin's dismal smile in that moment. What could prompt a man with that much love for his brother to want to kill him? No. Not just kill him, but _destroy_ him — every last good deed and word that breathed _Kenobi._

~ _I loved you.~_

"Thank you, Obi-Wan."

"You could thank me by perhaps explaining _why_ I had to stop you from completely lacerating your wrist."

Ahsoka bit the side of her mouth. A gust of wind rifled her lekku and poncho, sending Obi-Wan's padawan braid skittering across his chest. She watched the odd occurrence for a moment, before she shook her head.

"I have bad experiences with slavers." At Obi-Wan's head turn, Ahsoka sighed. "It was a mission gone wrong. The Zygerrians took my people. For five days outside the Royal Palace on Zygeria, I was kept in a cage a thousand feet above the ground. I had to wait for my master to come rescue me from a slaver who was a little too trigger happy with the electro-collar I wore." When she turned away, Obi-Wan struggled to pick up her words behind her embittered croak. "Let's just say I'm not fond of slavers."

"I'm sorry."

Ahsoka laughed, the sound empty. "Hey, it wasn't your fault."

It must have been the way she said it, for next she found Obi-Wan's hand at her arm. "Your master should have come sooner."

 _What? How dare —_ "He would have if he could." she bit back before she could control her outbreak. It was too late, the venom had already begun to set in on Obi-Wan's resolve, but his hand never fell away. _Stupid._ It didn't take her long to figure out where this had come from. Qui-Gon had told her yesterday — Obi-Wan was under the impression that she was _his_ padawan. Ahsoka sighed inwardly. Well, if anything had ever happened to Anakin during those long missions (force-forbid), then yes. She most likely would have become his padawan, and he her master.

A new light was cast upon his last comment. Ahsoka smiled, hoping to placate him by placing a hand over his. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have—"

She sighed, but Obi-Wan shook his head.

"There's nothing to apologise for Ahsoka. And… thank you for telling me about what was troubling you."

And finally, those grey eyes did what they should have done when she'd been placed in front of a faceless jury and condemned. Warmth unravelled from somewhere inside, comfort now a tangible force within her.

"Come. There's little here we can do." And he was right. It made her sick to her stomach, but there was nothing two Jedi padawans could do to liberate a whole operation of slaves — especially when one was no longer even a Jedi. Instead, Ahsoka found herself standing before the featureless stall of an old woman, purchasing unknown flavours of the prigulian jams Shmi had requested.

"Ms Skywalker always likes fringle berry. Oh! And klop-klop."

"Thank you."

The wind howled behind them as Ahsoka watched the old, hunched woman place each jar of jam in a fraying netted bag. In the corner of her eye, she placed Obi-Wan at another store, bartering with a jawa over… he'd said something about spare parts for repairs, hadn't he?

"You're a long way from home, child." The comment caught her off guard. Between the howling wind (which had been gradually picking up in the last hour) and the dry heat, Ahsoka blinked at the hooded woman. How could she—? But she couldn't. Ahsoka mentally slapped herself and smiled.

"Coruscant. The Inner Rim."

"Ooh. Such a long way that you've come," the weak voice spoke up from beneath the hood. A tendril of white hair swayed loosely in the wind, and Ahsoka's smile grew once more.

"Yes, it was a long way."

"Will you be heading back any time soon?" The woman resumed her task, wrapping and bagging another jar of jam.

Ahsoka breathed a heavy sigh. "I don't know."

"Be careful, my dear. It's not always nice knowing what the future may hold… I think it would be a curse if we did, don't you agree my dear?"

Again, Ahsoka was caught off guard by the comment. She pressed her lips together, counting the jars of jam that wrinkled hands packed away.

"Sometimes it's good to see where you're headed." she quietly offered. The hands ceased their movements.

"And who do you bring along with you, dearest?" Long, witch-like fingers settled flat against the counter top. The wind howled at her face, hot and dry. But then, like a pin-prick, the ice began its tirade. A muted warning; the Force swirled in quiet tones around them. It wasn't enough to set off any warning alarms within her, but Ahsoka set her jaw.

"Whoever wants to come along."

A haunting cackle came before her movements began again, the netted bag being gathered in weatherworn hands.

"They all the give the same answer, little one. But tell me this."

One of those decrepit hands snatched her wrist — there was strength there that somehow screamed unnatural. Ahsoka looked up, met by the yellow eye of the woman.

"Who do you love, and who do you leave behind?"

Ahsoka gave a desperate tug, a thoughtless bid to extract her hand — neither of them budged. "Get off me!" Fingers pressed into her wrist. Ahsoka snarled, finding resolution by reaching into the presence around them. A hand went up, rearing to push the woman away.

But then she froze. Her entire body went rigid, the ancient power that resided within her dying in an instant. All that she was left with was her own laboured breathing.

"I'd tell you now — it would save you a lot of pain later on." The yellow flickered, the ancient voice suddenly giving way to a voice both measured, cultured and _young_. "But answer me this. How many times must a man die before the mistake is realised?"

She was suddenly helpless, Ahsoka realised. This was it — the darkness. The unknown. This wasn't Maul. This wasn't Anakin… _The Clone Wars. The Seperatists. Count Dooku. Darth Sidious..._ She didn't know.

And in the face of such harrowing comprehension, Tano did the only thing she could think of.

She called for Kenobi.

A cruel smile twisted below the darkened hood.


	15. "Alright, so here's the plan."

"Get her inside. Oh, be careful of the doorway."

A small throng of people huddled around an arched doorway. Sand kicked up as the the mass attempted to move as one, but as physics would dictate, it was impossible that they could all fit through. So instead, Anakin Skywalker stepped back as Mister Qui-Gon's apprentice powered into his home with 'Soka in his arms. What'd happened? One moment, Qui-Gon had just finished purchasing the last piece Anakin needed for his podracer, and next thing anyone knew, Qui-Gon's head was snapping due east, and Anakin had collapsed under the weight of his new starboard engine.

"Uh, a little help here?"

Padmé'd come to his rescue, clamping her arms around his shoulders to help pull him out from underneath. No help was coming from the Jedi Master it seemed. Not as he practically began sniffing the air — well, that was the impression Anakin got, until he felt something bristle at his own mind. As Padmé straightened him out, Anakin scrunched his face.

"Is everything—"

_There._

He didn't know where the whisper had come from, but it directed his attention to just east of the farthest point of the plaza. The afternoon crowd parted like the sand stirred up beneath his podracer, and out came… _Obi-Wan,_ right? Yeah, Obi-Wan was a moving blur of beige and brown, not exactly _charging_ across the plaza, but definitely hurrying. When whatever this Obi-Wan was carrying came into view, Qui-Gon had torn out of his hesitant caution and was practically beside Obi-Wan in a matter of two gigantic strides.

Anakin and Padmé were quick to take up the rear.

"What happened?" and "Is she alright?" became the unanswerable question as Obi-Wan frowned through most of his explanation. Well, he was a damn sight calmer than Anakin — did she do this often? Were visions usually this turbulent? His dreams were never this potent. Yeah, sure, he could recall pretty scary imagery for a few days following particularly nasty dreams, but nothing that ever left him dropping unconscious.

_"I'll take her back to the ship. She needs proper supervision."_

The fact that this Obi-Wan had to practically shout over the howling wind should have been enough of a hint that _that_ was a bad idea. Anakin frowned, a hand on Ahsoka's lifeless arm. "You're _never_ gonna make it back in this _._ You'll have to come back to my place." And with one final pat to Ahsoka's arm, Anakin turned on his heel. "Mister Qui-Gon, sir. I'm gonna need your help with this engine."

"Carefully, Ani. Don't try and lift it by yourself." Qui-Gon's resolute warning had the boy waiting for him. Coordinating their efforts had the engine part moving again. But of course, there was a bit of an inconsistency with weight distribution when they shared the load. The sand whipped against the metal paint work; somewhere in the back of Anakin's mind he realised he'd have to repaint that before the big race two days from now.

The Boonta Eve Classic.

_Wizard._

"Will she be alright?" Padmé came up beside Qui-Gon's apprentice as the team of six (including Artoo) began their trek back to the Skywalker residence. The sand roared around her, and Padmé's arm did little to hold the sand from her eyes, nose and mouth. Beside her, Obi-Wan pulled Ahsoka closer, cradling her head to his chest and away from the drowning sand.

"Thankfully, her track record so far would suggest so."

Padmé nodded, but her eyes remained on Ahsoka. While the Jedi padawan's entire past seemed to be an enigma, Padmé had been shown enough glimpses of the girl beneath to come to equate some level of trust with Ahsoka. Yes, her circumstances were highly suspicious, having appeared seemingly out of thin air back in the occupied Capital… but Master Jinn trusted her. Padawan Kenobi trusted her. Even the astromech seemed to trust her…

It was just Captain Panaka, her handmaidens and the rest of her entourage that wouldn't trust her as far as they could throw her.

_If it were a combined effort..._

Padmé wound her hand through the material of Kenobi's poncho when the sand began to overwhelm her. Eventually she heard the strained shouting of Anakin ahead, and the answer of Shmi. Once they'd managed to make the doorway of the Skywalker residence, their awkward shuffling began. It was eventually decided that Obi-Wan go in first, before Anakin and Qui-Gon follow with the new engine part that needed desperate work before tomorrow. With all the chaos, it was an unexpected sight when Padmé stepped closer and found Shmi waiting in the doorway for her and Artoo.

"Oh, my dear, you must be exhausted." And when the caterwaul of howling sand became a distant whine, and Padmé found she could breathe again, two gentle hands began to dust the sand from her shoulders.

"You'll want to strip in the 'fresher and take a shower. If you put your clothes out, I'll clean them for you while you wash."

Padmé, Queen Amidala of Naboo and a political refugee on the run for her life, stopped. Thousands of lightyears from her home planet and desperate to present her people's case to the Republic senate, she allowed a practical stranger to mother her. Padmé blinked just before Shmi was sending her off to the 'fresher. "Go on. Ahsoka will be alright. Ani promised me."

And Padmé did as she was told, as though her own mother had sent her off.

* * *

"Where is the Queen now?"

"I believe Ms Skywalker has begun drawing up a roster for shower rotations." Qui-Gon looked up at his padawan. "You're next."

"Oh."

At Obi-Wan's minor start, Qui-Gon suppressed the small smile that threatened. Obi-Wan sighed, and Qui-Gon could practically envision the huffy fourteen-year-old throwing his shoulders down in discontent. His apprentice had come a long way, certainly so… but sometimes —

"I should go introduce myself." Obi-Wan's eyes were suddenly back on him, but the girl on the bed beneath them garnered most of Qui-Gon's attention. He shook his head, unfolding his arms from over his chest.

"No, that isn't necessary, Padawan. I've already done most of the explaining — it will wait. For the meantime, ensure Ahsoka remains calm. Wake her, if you can. Just…" Qui-Gon was on his feet by the time his instructions had come to a stand still. Obi-Wan nodded his head.

"I know. Don't let her do anything drastic like sleep fight or —"

The tug on his padawan braid cut off anything else that would have come out of his mouth. Obi-Wan came to stare at Qui-Gon's mock disapproval.

"That'll be enough out of you, Padawan."

His impudent padawan quelled the urge to smile. Instead, his gaze dropped away. "Yes, Master."

Qui-Gon shook his head as he left the room, muttering something that distinctly sounded like, " _Twelve long years…"_ to Obi-Wan. Finally a smile curved his lips as he pressed the cool towel back to Ahsoka's forehead. She neither moved no gave any show of consciousness. It was strange, Obi-Wan could sense her presence as though she were awake and laughing at him it was so bright, yet…

A small voice grabbed his attention then, floating distantly in from the other room.

"Mister Qui-Gon, sir. Could you pass me the B-76?"

Obi-Wan frowned. A B-76? If the boy's nonsensical conversation with himself for the past hour had revealed anything, he was working on the power converters on his starboard engine. What did he want a B-76 for? If he was planning on rerouting power through his couplers, then he needed a calliper, not a blasted B-76.

"Oh, wait… No, I need the Calliper, sorry.."

_Better._

He went back to dabbing Ahsoka's forehead with the towelette in hand. Truth be told, the boy had managed to impress him — even though Obi-Wan couldn't see what he was working on from here. But he guessed it had something to do with this 'Boonta Eve Classic' that the youngling kept shouting to his mother about. From how the house lined up, Obi-Wan could barely see the woman stop dead, her eyes glancing to Qui-Gon before his master gave her an appreciative, if despondent, smile. He knew that expression — he was going to make a point of interrogating his master at a later date. He really did want to know why this Anakin was sitting in the middle of his living room floor, rebuilding a shot starboard engine to a podracer.

Obi-Wan knew his master. He wouldn't use the last of their credits to buy a complete stranger half a new ship just because the youngling smiled at him. Well, Master Jinn might have a previous record with certain pathetic lifeforms… but Obi-Wan knew there was something more at play here.

Nonetheless, the boy had impressed him. Through the mismatched monologue, Obi-Wan had mentally tracked Anakin's process… and came out throughly impressed by the youngling's capability with anything mechanical, it seemed. While he might have stumbled in a few areas (Obi-Wan wasn't sure if it were just poor diction or the jumbled Huttesse mixed in), but for his age, the boy had an astonishing grasp on podracer engines.

_~Master, why is the boy rebuilding a podracer engine in the middle of his mother's common area? Or is this some sort of common occurrence? ~_

He felt the disgruntled grumble echo back to him.

_~If I'm to be honest, it probably is… but I was wondering when you'd ask this. ~_

And by the time Qui-Gon had finished explaining his plan and fighting back Obi-Wan's very vocal disapprovals, said padawan sat like a sour loth cat perched on the corner of the bed. It was a ludicrous plan — one that could see them stranded on this Force-forsaken planet longer than Obi-Wan cared to be. Ahsoka was silent beneath him, Padmé finally passing by the doorway. Obi-Wan internally grumbled as Anakin pointed out something else to Qui-Gon below the engine. "And this'll need repainting, too! I was thinking of painting it blue."

"Is blue your favourite colour?" It wasn't a question the Queen of Naboo would ask, but it was the kind of question a fourteen-year-old Padmé Naberrie would ask a nine-year-old Anakin Skywalker.

Obi-Wan sighed.

The boy was nine-years-old. Podracing was a death sentence for any human who dared it, let alone a youngling. But here they were, stranded on a desert planet in the Outer Rim and desperate to get to Coruscant to deliver the Queen of Naboo to the Republic Senate. _We're running out of options and time, Padawan._ He could imagine Qui-Gon's pointed glare even through the wall between them.

_Alright, Master. But if the boy fails_ —

_He will not._

And that had been that, as they say. Obi-Wan had always been one to voice his disapprovals — it'd taken his Master quite some time to iron out his creases. On top of that, he was never usually one to abandon an argument nor simply concede; but Obi-Wan had learnt his lesson. As age brought a new found sense of maturity, he hoped his temperament had mellowed with time and experience.

So when he simply left a mental bow to his master and faded back to the boy's bedroom, he was sure he could sense a faint echo of Qui-Gon arching a brow in his direction, as if to ask, "Is that it?"

Obi-Wan shook his head.

"Are you talking to someone?" The drop of a wrench. Anakin's voice drifted back to the room.

"In a manner of speaking, yes." His master's rumble answered the curious question.

"You're talking to... your apprentice, aren't you."

"Yes. Obi-Wan _._ "

"Whoa... _Wizard._ " The sheer amount of awe in the boy's tone finally tipped Obi-Wan's cold glare, and the beginnings of a smile replaced the grimace. To follow the boy's exclamation, Qui-Gon's rolling laugh soaked into the Force around them. Warmth and something Light bled through the walls and all around.

There was no doubt the youngling was Force-sensitive. Their conversation had been loud (well, it had broadcasted widely, at any rate. Could or could not have been Obi-Wan's fault). It wouldn't surprise him if Anakin had managed to pick up on a few words or huffs.

And that's what disturbed Obi-Wan the most. If Anakin could sense the Force swell and fall throughout their heated exchange, why didn't it rile Ahsoka into consciousness? Or at least brush against her presence enough to disturb her.

She hadn't moved once.

_What in all the blazes happened to you, my friend?_ Obi-Wan twisted his lip. She was deathly still below him, silent as he pressed the towel again to her flushed cheeks.

_I'm sorry I wasn't there._

He'd found her lying in the sand, at the foot of the stall. The old woman who'd been wrapping and bagging jams for Ahsoka had flung her arms to the sky and began damning the gods. It'd been a mixture of the woman's curses and a sudden illusion of empty space behind him that had alerted Obi-Wan to Ahsoka's demise. He'd practically tossed the last of his credits into the jawa's hand before he was falling to her side.

"What happened?" seemed a redundant question, but he'd asked it anyway. Really, he should have asked, ' _Who touched her?'_ if previous episodes had taught him anything. But the old woman shook her head beneath the hood, hands still making wild gestures to the skies.

"They take them where they stand! Where they _stand!"_

_In the sand._ Obi-Wan rolled his eyes and went about lifting the Togruta into his arms. Again, he held her to his chest, grateful for her delicate frame. When the old woman staggered towards him and placed the bag of jam jars over Ahsoka's middle, she met his gaze wide-eyed.

"Watch over her carefully. Or they'll take her away, and you'll never see her again. They'll take her just like they will him." A frail finger jabbed at him, punctuating the hysteria in her uneven eyes. And then she was hobbling away, but not before she had patted his arm like an old mother, mumbling some crazed splattering of words.

Obi-Wan considered it one of the more... _interesting_ experiences he'd had with locals.

Yet, somehow the old crone's message managed to echo through his mind at impromptu moments within the quiet room. He understood the context, he liked the think. _Her_ was Ahsoka... but who was _him?_

_No, come on Kenobi. She's just an old woman._ Obi-Wan shook his head, pressing his lips together. _Would you be any different if you had to spend the rest of your life on this poor excuse for a planet?_

Obi-Wan cringed.

_Come on, Ahsoka._


	16. Meet the Skywalkers

"Have you tried talking to her?"

_What?_

Sleep hung like a veil over him — when he lifted his head, it felt as though he were pushing against a great weight. Nevertheless, Obi-Wan was quick to unfold himself off the strange bed, and regather his robes in a stately manner (never mind if it were riddled with creases and _sand)._ He tried not to stare with blurry eyes towards the doorway — because, he had in fact _not_ been asleep. He'd simply been resting his eyes.

Obi-Wan blinked at whoever'd caught him in the act.

The voice rung no bell of recognition within him, and it took his eyes a few moments to adjust in order to place a face to the voice. He cleared his throat, shaking away the last of the grogginess.

"Have I tried talking to her?" he repeated back, again clearing his throat when he barely managed to croak the question out. A kind face smiled at him, weatherworn hands folding neatly before her.

"Yes, may I come in?"

"Oh, please do." Obi-Wan was up from the chair by the bed in an instant, ushering her in with a bow and an extended hand. The older woman smiled her thanks, but ventured no further in than a foot from the doorway. Something fell in his chest when her gaze dropped to Ahsoka, the distance kept like a physical barrier.

— And then she was across the room. Taken aback somehow by the sudden closeness, Obi-Wan managed to shuffle himself to the side as Shmi put a gentle hand to the girl's montrals. A strange silence settled then, until it morphed into a blanket of serene calm — Kenobi watched the woman rest her hand by Ahsoka's head.

"Forgive me. There is a saying, a belief amongst the slaves," Brown eyes met his as a hand reached out again to the sand-dusted blue and white. "That if the need is dire enough, those we are closest to will always hear."

_Don't I know._ Obi-Wan ducked his head, forming the mental image of Qui-Gon in the next room over, stuck beneath the starboard engine with the chattering Anakin beside him. (' _But wouldn't a Jedi use mind control_ all _the time? Isn't it easier to make people just do the right thing?' 'I'm afraid it doesn't work like that, Ani. Pass me the 2x4 — thank you. The role of a Jedi is to keep the peace, to find balance. To exert one's power over another — that goes against everything that is at the heart of a Jedi.' The obligatory short break of silence before, 'But I mean, how come the Jedi don't…')_

Obi-Wan smiled as his gaze skirted between Shmi and the sleeping girl below them. "I'd very much like that to be true, but I fear in this case simply _asking_ her to wake up won't be enough."

A quiet spark of humour met his gaze when he looked up. "There are other things to be said."

He hadn't been expecting her response, nor the possible array of connotations to her words. And so a moment passed before Kenobi could think of something to say. An arm folded before the other over his chest. "Anakin is a very gifted boy. You must be very proud."

"Thank you, but I must apologise to your master." An embarrassed smile turned her lips. "I'm afraid Anakin might be giving him a headache; what, with all his incessant questions."

Obi-Wan shook his head, bringing himself to rest on the edge of the boy's bed. "Your son is merely curious, and I think you'll find that Qui-Gon's outwards appearance with younglings very much reflects his inner resolve — he'll be enjoying Anakin's company just as much as he seems to be enjoying his."

Shmi took a step back, the smile finally meeting her eyes, before her attention was again on Ahsoka. And then the joy was gone, replaced by a wave of concern. "But truly, how is she? Ani tells me not to worry— "

When her gaze met his again, Obi-Wan had the distinct impression that this Anakin was often one to tell his mother not to worry, as such was her disposition. So much sympathy for a mere stranger. A warmth pulsed through him then. It was a comforting thought that kindness still existed within this galaxy.

Trying to hide his sudden start, Obi-Wan straightened his back and sent a hand down to Ahsoka.

Shmi watched with tired eyes as the young man ran two fingers down his friend's shoulder, his touch ghosting along her skin. The silent act was viewed by both parties, but excused by the cough of the guilty.

"While Ahsoka is prone to these episodes," _I can't speak for her before a week ago. But I do doubt_ _these sorts of attacks happen on a regular basis. "_ I have faith she'll recover. She has a habit of reappearing whenever you least expect her to."

Shmi nodded, but before she could vocalise her relief, a voice cut through all.

" _Mister Qui-Gon, sir, I can't reach the oil subsidisers! I'm — I'm too short."_

_"Move over, Anakin. Let me have a look."_

A sudden _clunk,_ and then, " _Oops."_

Obi-Wan arched an anxious brow at the woman across from him. "I think we may have to reimburse you for your flooring once they're done in there."

Shmi laughed.

"Mess and Ani is nothing new. But as long as he is happy..." She pressed her lips together. Obi-Wan watched the movement, noting her expression and sorting it away for future reference. But for now, they stood as indicators to her inner turmoil. _Blast, Qui-Gon._

"Thank you for agreeing to my master's somewhat crazed plan." Kenobi's inferred apology split the sudden silence. Brows turned up in his direction, the brown of her eyes almost a deep black. "It's awfully kind of you both to take us in like this."

A smile settled upon her features, and Obi-Wan didn't want to think that the gentle expression may have been a rare occurrence. After all, how much happiness did a planet like Tatooine generate? Unless you preyed on the weak and impoverished, there wasn't much opportunity to flourish here. But nonetheless, it seemed Shmi Skywalker had found a way. "Where would the galaxy be without kindness?" she offered to him n response. 

He gave a grave nod, a form of agreement he hoped she understood.

It wasn't long before Shmi was offering him something for dinner. And when Obi-Wan's (traitorous) stomach grumbled, he was sure he went a peculiar shade of red as the older woman slipped from the room. He was sure he could discern the knowing smile on her face as she went. Resuming his seat, Obi-Wan sighed at Ahsoka's impassive face beside him.

"It would be a mercy if you woke sooner rather than later, Ahsoka. If just so I have someone else to feel guilty with."

Because despite all Ms Skywalker's assurances, Obi-Wan still felt as though they were imposing on the family of two. It wouldn't be the first time his master had done something like this — they'd once spent an entire tense extra week on Mrenio just because Qui-Gon had _felt like it._ Obi-Wan had been sixteen at the time, and very skittish around the Mreniol. The rest of the galaxy didn't hail them in the best, nor most _hospitable_ of light. (Master Nu had imparted this knowledge on him when he'd gone looking in the Temple's Archives prior to the mission.) But nonetheless, Master Qui-Gon had been adamant on proving a point. _You cannot judge a book by its cover, Obi-Wan._

Obi-Wan was sure his master was just sore over the fact that the Mreniol diplomats had made him wait for over three hours on the first day of negations.

Obi-Wan had spent the rest of the week either hiding ( _resting,_ because Jedi padawans did not hide _)_ in his room, or skirting down corridors to find something to entertain himself with (because _Force_ it had been boring reading the Mreniol senate's brochure over and over again). He'd been cautious of the green, bulging eyes of every Mreniol he'd run into, their distaste rolling off them in waves and towards the tiny pink human who dared skitter down their corridors. Why couldn't they just _do_ as they wanted, and get _off_ the planet? But no, Qui-Gon was adamant on pushing boundaries. The new found relationship between the Mreniol and the Republic went through many trials that week. " _It's a week of rest, Padawan. They have a very nice infinity lake that overlooks… It'll be a chance to strengthen your connection with the Living Force… I find that meditation here is quite a tranquil experience…"_

When they'd finally returned to Coruscant and Obi-Wan had stepped foot in the Temple, it'd been a struggle not to collapse to his knees and thank the Force for such a mercy.

Bant couldn't understand why he'd wanted to steer clear of the Temple pools for a week after.

Obi-Wan gave a despondent sigh, placing his hand against Ahsoka's sun-kissed skin. It was still warm to the touch.

"I don't suppose your master is as _adventurous_ as mine." As if the word _adventurous_ was perhaps synonymous with _vexing_ , or _unorthodox._ Kenobi sighed.

And then, as if she'd heard his meaningless grumble, Ahsoka gave a soft moan. Obi-Wan had little time to start before she'd turned away from him. Her hardline accent met his ears, muttering something that even Force-enhanced hearing had trouble discerning. Obi-Wan frowned. Perhaps it was him, but it sounded an awful lot like, " _Anakin's…_ _drive… crazy."_

Yet, it was certainly something, and it was enough of a something to send Obi-Wan's hand out again. When shaking her side proved to be useless, he tried delving into the familiar presence that waked in quiet undertones around them. Still, her signature burned away beside his. _Come on, Ahsoka._

Cruelly, there was nothing. No response. Blankness.

_~ Obi-Wan, how is Ahsoka? I thought I sensed_ — ~

_~ Your senses are fine, Master. It's just Ahsoka who stubbornly refuses to put us at ease. ~_

~ _Alright, Obi-Wan. As soon as I've finished up here, I believe putting Ahsoka in a healing trance will be the next best course of action. ~_

_~ Yes, Master. ~_

It _was_ the next best thing to do, of course. There wasn't much he could argue with there. He just hoped it would be the final push Ahsoka needed to break through whatever netherworld stood as a barrier between her and reality.

* * *

_"Mister Obi-Wan."_

Something prodded his side.

"Hello, Mister Obi-Wan?"

The voice that had remained distant, obscured by the walls between, now spoke directly to him — or at least, that was the impression Obi-Wan got from the vague voice floating around him. His head shot up, and as he blinked away the sudden heaviness of sleep ( _blast, again?)_ , he found himself face to face with Anakin Skywalker... And a hot bowl of something that steamed beneath his nose.

"Mom says she's sorry it's late, but she hopes you like it."

A moment passed where Obi-Wan stared at the boy across from him. Said boy inclined his head, his eyes narrowing towards him. Obi-Wan couldn't shake off the feeling that he were a part of the engine in the opposite room. Keen eyes put him under scrutiny, hands itching to take him apart.

"Well?"

" _Well_?" Obi-Wan echoed, not entirely sure if he were back in the room yet.

Anakin sighed. "Are you hungry? Qui-Gon says you should be _vanished."_

And as Obi-Wan reached tired arms to retrieve the offered meal, the pangs of hunger somewhat crippling, he furrowed his brows. " _Famished._ "

"Huh?"

"I think you meant _famished."_

A questioning head turned, an incredulous look quirking the corner of the youngling's lips. "That's what I said, isn't it?"

"You said — oh, never mind." And he took a sip of the stew, allowing the homely taste to wash over him.

By the time Obi-Wan had made it to his sixth spoon of broth in relative silence, he knew something was burning on Anakin's mind (despite the fact that he had barely exchanged words with the youngling). He arched a brow at the boy's calculating expression while he chewed on a piece of desiccated bantha meat. Of course, it wasn't long before Anakin was breaking the silence.

"Have you tried talking to her? My mom always says the people we love can always hear us, no matter where they are." Anakin gave a tentative shrug, his gaze drifting away and back to Ahsoka. But of course, it darted up to sneak a glance at the Jedi next to him, if just to gauge his reaction.

The young man remained impassive. "Your mother suggested I do so earlier."

A stilted moment passed, the silence filled only by the chirp of Tatooine's nightlife outside. Anakin frowned. "And?"

" _And?"_

Anakin rolled his eyes. _So this is what Mister Qui-Gon meant._ "Did it work?"

"Ahsoka might have rolled over."

"Away from you?"

"Is it important in which direction she rolls?"

Anakin snorted — a strange sound that caught Obi-Wan by surprise. He blinked at the boy, whose blue eyes twinkled alongside a display of crooked teeth.

"Mister Qui-Gon was right… You are a bit funny."

"Am I?" He took another spoonful of soup.

~ _A bit funny? ~_

_~ That's not exactly what I said. ~_

_~ Oh, do tell, Master. ~_

"Well, he said that you have a funny sense of humour."

He inclined a brow at the boy, but wasn't surprised when Anakin's smile never died. "And that you —"

"Ani," Anakin's head dropped to the doorway, his sudden shock and embarrassment at having been caught out forming an awkward grin. Obi-Wan felt the corner of his own mouth curl up ay the boy's never-ending tether of smiles — whether they were genuine or in jest. Anakin rolled his eyes to the doorway, but it seemed he'd received his sense of wilful pride from his mother. Shmi stood in the doorway frowning. "Don't pester, Ani. Obi-Wan already has a lot to worry about without you becoming a problem as well."

"But mom,"

"Ani."

Obi-Wan gave the boy a conspiratorial smirk, before he'd turned a placating smile on Shmi. "He's perfectly alright, Ms Skywalker."

Anakin's grin doubled. Shmi brought a hand to her hip, her next words gentler than her first.

"I hope you like the broth."

But before Obi-Wan could compliment the combination of flavours he'd been given, Anakin was leaning across to inspect the contents of his bowl. Sandy-blond hair assaulted Obi-Wan's nose as Anakin's head whirred back up and out of his dinner.

"Yep, he likes it."

"Ani,"

"Sorry mom."

While it took another bout of smiles and assurances from Obi-Wan, Shmi was soon sure her son wasn't going to cause the Jedi a migraine the size of greater Mos Espa, and was on her way. Anakin, on spindly legs, unfolded himself on his side of the bed. Ahsoka sat like a great rift between them. And as Obi-Wan took another sip of the crushed, bland ground-roots and bantha meat, he watched the boy. A leg swung absently beside him. But his eyes danced between what occupied his hands, and what, or rather _who_ lay beside them. Anakin's gaze returned to the flickering eyelashes of Ahsoka Tano, and Obi-Wan wondered if it were possible the boy was counting each one.

But, as if he'd noticed Obi-Wan's attention, "Are you gonna try again?"

A moment's hesitation cost Obi-Wan the feeling in his mouth for the next few minutes. He cursed, thankful it was slurred by his tongue's preoccupation with the burning sensation. At Anakin's question, he'd stupidly forgotten to blow on the spoonful before him, never mind the billowing steam that breathed hot against his nose.

"You should blow on it. Mom makes it super hot."

Obi-Wan brought a sleeve to his mouth in the attempts to stifle the oncoming coughing fit. "Yes," _cough,_ "Thank you."

But as the threatening attack receded, and he swallowed around the lack of sensation along his tongue, Obi-Wan shook his head. "What should I try again?"

"Oh, you should try talking to her again." When the young man gave no response, nor gave any reaction, Anakin twisted the corner of his lip and shrugged. "You said she did something the first time." Blue met grey from beneath a blond fringe. "You should try again."

Unbelieving eyes turned away. "I doubt it was that." Obi-Wan scoffed.

"Why? You said somethin' to her, didn't you? You said she rolled over… away from you."

Obi-Wan again peered down at the boy, who stared up at him with all the expectation of an impatient child. He could imagine those eyes narrowing at him at any moment now. He was waiting, simply that, for Obi-Wan to do one of either two things. One, _do_ the thing; or two _,_ _don't_ do the thing. Obi-Wan resisted the urge to laugh. This youngling was waiting to gauge his response — to gain a glimpse into his persons by simply putting this basic task to him.

He was being psychoanalysed by a nine-year-old. And by the way he began fiddling with the edges of Obi-Wan's robe again, this youngling knew full well what he was up to.

Obi-Wan sighed to himself.

_"Anakin._ I don't know how much Qui-Gon has told you, but Ahsoka is unlikely to snap back so readily." He sent the boy a pointed look, hoping it wasn't perceived as an admonishment. The boy was nine-years-old, for Force sake's, and was nothing but curious. Obi-Wan sighed — he should be better than this.

So the padawan set his jaw, sending a wave of _calm_ resounding through the room. And sure enough, he saw the tension in the boy bleed away. Anakin's arms relaxed by his side, and Obi-Wan could breathe easier.

"She'll wake when she is ready. We mustn't worry… it would be useless to do so, anyway."

That thankfully seemed to appease Anakin, at least for the time being. Hair skittered along his brows as the boy nodded his assent. A small body inclined itself against the wall behind him once more. One leg came up to tuck beneath the other, and he worked over the edges of Obi-Wan's robe with clammy fingers.

When the last of the cream-coloured broth remained out of reach from his spoon, Obi-Wan placed the bowl to one side and very unceremoniously wiped the back of his tunic sleeve along his mouth. And when he folded himself forward, his elbows resting on the edge of Anakin's bed, a hand reached out and began looping a stray thread from Ahsoka's makeshift blanket between finger and thumb.

It was Anakin who watched the movement, and decided that for all this Obi-Wan's calmness, he seemed to look like someone really nervous. (Albeit, Anakin only knew this because he himself was doing the exact same thing, and _he_ was nervous for Ahsoka.)

Of course, he was right. Because while Obi-Wan was quick to encourage others, the idea of mitigating his own concerns was often overlooked. Anakin counted the amount of loops Qui-Gon's apprentice made with the thread before he gave up - _twenty-nine._

On the other side of the bed, Obi-Wan sighed. Again. A mild pounding sensation had nestled in the back of his skull, and no amount of Force-suggestion was going to chase it away.

_Ahsoka._

Obi-Wan bristled. Something didn't sit right with him, and it showed when he repeatedly resettled the fall and folds of his tunic.

_This_ episode didn't seem to fit the mould of past attacks. Every other time, he could explain… He'd been present. It was no declaration of vanity, rather what Obi-Wan concluded was a show of their future dynamic. She knew him — she persistently called him _Master_ Obi-Wan or Kenobi (depending on the severity of the situation). Whatever she saw in her vision, whatever had landed her here… it remained unspoken between Master and Padawn, but Obi-Wan knew Qui-Gon was just as curious to know what remained omitted from Ahsoka's recount as he was.

_Something_ tipped the Force into chaos whenever she lost herself in a maelstrom of memories. Obi-Wan was sparingly privy to what she watched with glassy, frightened eyes, but he could see their volatile effects. He'd experienced first hand what her visions were capable of doing… He'd felt the burning echo of fire rage up his skin. He'd cried the muted scream that Ahsoka gave. Because every time the Force doused her in agony, he was the unwilling catalyst.

It did unsettle him somewhat that only _he_ had this effect on her. Qui-Gon didn't…

… But then again, the plaza.

They had just about been prepared to set out on their given mission when Ahsoka snapped to halt, cradling her montrals. She'd complained of the darkness… something new. Something unknown.

It wasn't him… but he knew what it was. Well, he knew what was causing it. They'd shared the same vision last night. And he'd seen her dreams the night before last. Was it the same figure in both? No, there were distinct differences between the two, specifically how Ahsoka treated each. The first, Ahsoka was terrified of him. She'd been terrified of _losing_ him, if her desperate grapple for him said anything. This unknown force raged at her, though Obi-Wan could decipher none of what he said.

But then there was the other figure. Sand seemed to grate the back of his throat even when he solely _thought_ of the vision. The _he_ was now a _she,_ and spoke no words. There was no ostentatious show of power, no outward show of aggression as the stranger sought refuge in the shadows. And then gone was the great show of pride and decadence, instead a ball of lithe limbs was delivered to the foot of a sand dune. Ahsoka stood there to meet her.

Confusion. Fear. _Courage._

Ahsoka knew nothing of who this was. She was just as confused as he was.

"Are visions normally like this? I mean, are they usually so… you know, _powerful_?"

The little voice reached him through his own maelstrom of memories and thoughts. Obi-Wan turned his head to Anakin, a small frown growning between his brows.

"Haven't you asked Qui-Gon that yet?"

A small shake of his head seemed to be the only answer Obi-Wan could get, but the minute gesture struck a chord within him. It took him a moment to remember that the boy was in fact _a boy_ , both nervous and terribly curious about what was suddenly happening around him. The corners of Obi-Wan's mouth were lifting in the hopes of offering some comfort.

"No, they're not usually like this, little one." He finally sat back. Anakin watched the older boy regather his Jedi robes again, as he seemed so fond of doing. This Obi-Wan was in a constant state of 'reshuffle', it seemed.

"Ahsoka here happens to be a special case."

Anakin nodded. But then his gaze was snapping back to Obi-Wan. "Why? Is something wrong with her?"

Obi-Wan fought the urge to spit out some sarcastic retort. There was a painful sincerity in Anakin's gaze when he turned to him. Guilt began to needle away at his conscience then, and Obi-Wan glanced towards his boots. "What has Qui-Gon told you so far?"

"He told me that she's been having visions. Ahsoka said that she sees a lot of things. I suppose they're not very good things, are they."

"No." Obi-Wan concluded, finishing on a bitter note. The boy nodded in return before Obi-Wan began another deluge of internal brooding. He was right, of course. Ahsoka was haunted by whatever she saw. Her fear had pushed her to reveal the truth, that the Force had sent her hurtling back in time.

But why to this exact point? Was it Naboo? She knew the Queen well. Was it him? She knew him just as well; perhaps better (if the assumed informality and 'tea episode' could be taken that way). Was it the mission? They were stranded on Tatooine... but what could possibly be on Tatooine?

_Wait_.

Obi-Wan blinked. Anakin's eyes remained glued to Ahsoka, his fingers having now abandoned Obi-Wan's robe and instead played with the ends of her lekku.

"Anakin," the boy inclined his head in his direction. "Has Ahsoka collapsed prior to now?"

A hesitant nod answered his suspicions. "Yeah. Yesterday, in Watto's store. She nearly squashed Padmé." Grease-smeared hands abandoned Ahsoka's lekku to demonstrate some imitation of the girl collapsing onto the Queen. Two hands clapped together, before Anakin resumed fiddling with his robe.

Obi-Wan watched the gesture, but his mind was reeling with the new information. Why hadn't his master told him? He'd radioed in yesterday to say he was remaining in town with the boy, yes, so negotiations could be continued. He'd sent Artoo and Jar Jar back (who'd been much happier back on board), yet spoke nothing of this…

He was going to have to ask, whenever Anakin decided he was needed elsewhere.

"She said she saw me in her visions."

It was barely a whisper, but it had Obi-Wan's head turning to him again.

Ahsoka had seen this boy? And she'd _told_ him?

"She knew my name and everything — it was a bit weird at first, but then she explained everything. Do you see people in your visions, Obi-Wan?"

"Sometimes," The answer was distracted, even Anakin could tell. "When exactly did she collapse?

Anakin twisted one side of his mouth up as his brows came down. "Well, Watto was yelling at me. I came down to see what was wrong. As soon as I walked in, _fwoosh!_ " Again, he punctuated his point with a wild hand gesture. "Ahsoka was down." The boy leaned back against the wall behind him. He shrugged at Obi-Wan's calculating expression.

Obi-Wan dropped his gaze to Ahsoka again. She'd collapsed as soon as Anakin had walked in.

What had happened when he and Qui-Gon first appeared to her? She'd met the floor convulsing before anyone could do anything. His master had barely been able to pull her out before the worst could be dealt.

A muscle pulsed in the padawan's jaw, realisation not kind enough to slowly creep up on him. It barrelled into him like a freight train.

Did she know who Anakin was?

A sudden swirl left the Force washing over him. It became a gentle ebbing sensation against his fingertips once it had abated.

Anakin blinked at him, before his head dropped to one side. "What is it?"

"Pardon?"

"I said, what is it? You look like a bantha just ran your home down."

Obi-Wan shook his head. "Nothing, Anakin. It's nothing."

_"Obi-Wan?"_

Both heads turned to the resounding voice in the doorway. Obi-Wan suppressed a smile, despite the bleak conversation he'd just emerged from. Qui-Gon Jinn stood in the cramped entrance to the room, his clothes, hands and face as smeared in grease as Anakin Skywalker was.

"Master," Obi-Wan ducked his head in greeting. ~ _Why do you look like you've spent a week as a mechanic in the Vrenoit Exchange?~_

Qui-Gon huffed as he stepped into the room. ~ _Anakin is lacking the few vital inches required to reach the oil subsidisers beneath the engine.~_

_~So you've been taken advantage of.~_

_~Padawan…~_

Well, that explained Anakin's sudden presence in the room, and all his tiresome questions. Obi-Wan knew his master didn't approve of his sudden smirk, but neither could he entirely bring himself to care.

"How is Ahsoka?" Qui-Gon asked.

Oh yes, the healing trance. He'd almost forgotten.

The Jedi padawan stretched a leg before him, relief flooding through his tired body with the crack of his knees. "Unchanged, Master. I'm beginning to worry."

"But you just said —" Anakin now adorned a dumfounded expression that skirted between both Obi-Wan and his master, before the latter was sharing Obi-Wan's smirk (though Obi-Wan was sure it wasn't for the same reasons that he was wearing his).

"Ani, you'll come to learn that whatever Obi-Wan says to do, and does himself are somewhat two _differing_ things." And then the Jedi Master was crossing the short distance of the room, stopping just before the mess of mechanical bits and bobs that poked out from beneath the boy's bed. He went about staunchly ignoring the look of hurt betrayal he knew Obi-Wan was sure to be sending him.

"What are you going to do?" Anakin asked on quiet words after a late breath. Qui-Gon brought a hand up to rub at his bearded chin.

"I'll have to place her in a healing trance overnight. She's had sufficient time to wake herself…" And then his arms unfolded, falling to the sides of his body. He gave a small echo of a nod — dissatisfaction — that sent Obi-Wan's hand back out to rest on Ahsoka's shoulder. And with one final shake of his head, Obi-Wan was up from the seat Ms Skywalker had given him, and stepping aside to allow Qui-Gon to sit.

Something crunched beneath his boot.

All sets of eyes looked down, the youngest peering over the edge of the bed while the guilty lifted his foot. Obi-Wan felt himself pale when he saw the flattened model glaring up at him from the floor. What was once an engine port fell off, taunting him.

Force knew he didn't want to look up.

"Don't worry 'bout it." The boy smiled at him, his eyes shining beneath the sandy-blond fringe. "I didn't like that one anyway."

"I'm sorry, Anakin." And Obi-Wan was picking up the model as his master sat in the chair he'd just vacated. He could feel both the reprimand and Qui-Gon's amusement echo in the Force as Obi-Wan tried sticking a dorsal fin back to a shattered chassis. Only the Force knew what struggle Qui-Gon had gone through in Obi-Wan's room when he'd been younger (of course, also Tahl and Mace. And perhaps Yoda at a stretch.) The boy had managed to create 6x8 square metre minefield of toy models, data pads and Force knew what else. He noted that Anakin seemed to keep a majority of his mess _up_ , whereas Obi-Wan had kept the great monstrosity of mess _down on the floor_ , where Qui-Gon (due to height) was both unfortunately and unlikely to look. A few Corellian cruisers and Rodian spit-engines had been lost throughout Obi-Wan's teenage years. More than a few credits had exchanged hands, and more than a few air buses to the nearest toy store had been taken by an indulged padawan and a guilt-tripped master.

_~ Are you going to give the boy the last of your credits, Obi-Wan, and accompany him to the nearest model dealer?~_

_~ Unlike you, Master, I am not about to be guilt-tripped into buying a new set of model a-wings.~_

_~ Be glad then, that the boy has generosity at heart. Or else you could be making an unexpected detour back to the plaza tomorrow.~_

Obi-Wan arched a brow at his master as Anakin took the fragmented model from his hands. _~Aren't you meant to be putting someone in a healing trance?~_

He couldn't avoid the sudden mental swat that was delivered to his head, despite the fact that he was facing away from his master, and was purposefully on the opposite side of the room. He followed Anakin's movement as the boy deposited the wrecked model on a shelf, and cringed.

"I really am very sorry about that, Anakin."

"If it's any comfort, Ani, Obi-Wan is no stranger to having his models trampled over."

Again, the boy stared between his master and him. Obi-Wan got the impression Anakin didn't know how to answer that, disbelieving and somewhat overwhelmed at and by the situation. Obi-Wan arched a brow at his master before he shook his head.

"He's just bitter over the fact that he felt obligated to take me to the Temple's nearest toy store whenever he stepped on something."

And when Anakin smiled, wiping his still greasy hands on his dirt-smeared trousers, Obi-Wan couldn't help but return the sentiment (minus the show of uneven teeth, of course). But, when the glint in the youngling's eye turned conspiratorial, and he saw the unspoken exchange between Qui-Gon and the boy… Obi-Wan blanched.

"Well, you know… I did sort of _like_ that one…" Anakin said.

Obi-Wan tried to stop his shoulders from hunching, not wanting to sink to the maturity of the child across from him. He both heard and felt Qui-Gon's laugh.

"Perhaps my padawan does owe you a toy model…" Qui-Gon placed his hands to the sides of Ahsoka's head, once having wiped away as much engine oil as he possibly could from his hands. "But for now, Anakin, I think concentrating on your upcoming race would be a better option."

"Yes, sir!" The talk of pods and racing brought a different light to Anakin's eyes, and Obi-Wan breathed a sigh when the boy chased his euphoria from the room. And as Obi-Wan turned away, he caught Qui-Gon placing a steady hand to Ahsoka's forehead. The Force moved against him then, circling around the young woman on the bed, before it died down into content silence once more. Qui-Gon was soon up on his feet, turning to face his padawan once more.

"There is little else we can do." Over his shoulder, he shook his head internally at the sight. "Watch over her for tonight, Obi-Wan. She seems comfortable enough in your presence."

"Yes, Master."

"And do try to get some sleep, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan ducked his head at the admonishment, once again fourteen and on the receiving end of Master Qui-Gon's pointed glare. He shook away the memories of adolescence, unable to help but notice how Master Qui-Gon's current look lined up perfectly alongside the remembered frown in his mind's eye

"Yes, Master." he conceded, negotiating the small space as he moved towards Anakin's bed. However, an unforeseen yawn left him at an abrupt stop in the middle of the room. A gentle laugh lulled through the Force as a heavy hand dropped to his shoulder.

"Sleep, Obi-Wan."

Qui-Gon sighed when his padawan finally sat himself back in his chair, careful not to disturb Ahsoka as he arranged his sleeves neatly over his lap. And that was how Qui-Gon left the room, his padawan sitting quietly before their charge, waiting for sleep to steal him away.

"Jedi don't do this often, do they?"

Padmé's whisper reached him once Qui-Gon had stepped foot beyond the doorway, the lights flickering off in Anakin's room. Concluding her question was directed towards Ahsoka, he shook his head. And when he turned to answer, Padmé met a man with the weight of the world on his shoulders.

"No, handmaiden. They don't."

"Come on, Ani." Shmi placed two large hands on her son's shoulders at the doorway, steering him away. "You need to sleep as well."

"Can I sleep in the common room, mom?"

"As long as you set up the sleeping mat for Padmé as well."

"'Course I will."

Again, Shmi found herself standing beside the towering Jedi Master as her son ushered the startled Padmé along. _What has happened?_ It was a quiet plea to the Gods, but nonetheless she hoped some answer would come to explain why two Jedi apprentices were asleep in her son's bedroom, and why a Jedi Master stood beside her as her son entertained a handmaiden from Naboo?

Shmi wrapped her arms around herself. In two days, her son would be risking life and limb all for the sake of four strangers.

What a strange galaxy it was.


	17. Starboard Engines

" _This is treason, Master Windu…"_ A decrepit face. Eyes the colour of that abhorrent, tell-tale yellow. 

…

_"Enough! I'll end this now."_

The familiar contour of Master Windu's face soured with the sheer intensity bleeding, _consuming_ the Force around them. He was desperate to restrain the Darkness of the figure before him. _No no, I need a face!_

Another voice. _"No, he needs to stand trial."_ Anakin? _"I need him!"_

A violent gust of wind; robes ripped by the wind and sent soaring to the ground below. That horrific smell of burnt, cooked flesh. The haunting yellow settled in her master's gaze. He fell to his knees, as if the weight of his actions had sent him there and forced him to surrender his will.

_I need a face!_

The hooded figure cackled, a tear slipped down Anakin's cheek. The raucous noise forced her down, and Ahsoka joined her master's side as her knees buckled under the strain of the Dark.

_"What are you?"_

The voice both boomed and hissed from the darkest of places. Ahsoka's head snapped on up on instinct. Anakin had disappeared from beside her, darkness enveloping all breathing space around her. That cackle had finally ceased, but in its place, the Force howled against her.

Ahsoka was no stranger to this, not now.

However, " _What are you?"_ sounded again, this time attacking from the rear. Instinct saw a controlled line of limbs pivot around, and a hand extended to the Darkness in order to fend off any incoming assault — no one. Ahsoka frowned, her lips curling in distaste.

"Anakin?" _Nothing._ "Master?"

" _Jedi…"_

A voice whispered another warning. _Around!_

Two blades of searing green split the black, a stark contrast that still did little to illuminate the space around. However, Ahsoka's momentary hesitation took shape in widening eyes. She could do little but send a hasty 'thank you' to the Force for the familiar weight of her lightsabers. Tall before her, a figure stood shrouded in black. A cowl revealed nothing but a ghastly smile, the already gaunt features of the face emphasised by sharpening teeth. _The holorecording... Anakin..._

Then that abhorrent cackle came swirling back, deafening as it cracked through the air. Ahsoka grit her teeth.

 _"Sith_."

The smile only grew.

* * *

The sand-coloured ceiling of Anakin's room still had the power to disorient her, even when she was throwing herself up out of a vision and cradling the side of her head. Ahsoka's nose crinkled as blankets (which she noted were Jedi robes) were kicked aside. Moving away from the small sleep cot didn't seem to be a priority, not when her head was still pounding and she couldn't tell if that was actually her hand on the edge of the bed or not.

" _Urgh…"_

There were a few things she'd liked to have her head around before she made a start on the day. Say, why did the Force decide that _she_ would be the best candidate to save Anakin Skywalker? That was always going to be a tricky one. And then, once accepting her plight, why did the Force bombard her with visions and warnings, but provided her with no explicit detail? A mismatched conundrum of imagery, faces and names that remained obscured. What was the Force hoping to accomplish if it couldn't show her what it wanted done?

_Sorta defeats the purpose. Because a face would be nice._

With another sigh, and with the thumping in the back of her skull dying down, Ahsoka begin to lift herself on withered limbs. The first attempt was a pitiful show of wiry muscles, so with another huff, Ahsoka called on the Force and almost threw herself from the bed.

Then came the realisation that… she couldn't remember when she'd gone to bed. In fact, as Ahsoka did another tentative turn to see if her right leg was working, she couldn't recall coming home from the markets. Actually, there seemed to be a massive blank in regards to anything that happened after the slave auctions.

Ahsoka pressed her eyes shut, seething when she pulled a muscle in her thigh. Her left foot came down, hitting hard against whatever was on Anakin's floor. _What the?_

Something squeaked as she lifted her tight-clad foot from the ground. An oil dispenser (thankfully empty) found a new home on a nearby shelf before Ahsoka started from the room.

The first part of her plan was to get to the kitchen counter and put her boots on, and then go and find where the rest of everyone else should be. Because judging by the light streaming in from tiny, uneven windows, it was somewhere near midday. And Ahsoka was interested in finding out _why_ and _how_ she'd wound up in Anakin's bed without remembering how she'd got there in the first place.

As she rounded the corner to the divided sleeping quarters, she came face to face with two realisations; a) the warm smell of cooked food, and b) Shmi Skywalker turning what looked like dune-leaves in a bowl.

Brown eyes flashed upwards. Ahsoka dropped herself into a bow as she forced her still somewhat _dead_ right-leg down. _Success._

"Oh bless the Gods, you're awake."

" _Again."_ Ahsoka shook her head.

A flurry of movement, Shmi quickly dried her hands on a nearby towel before she was crossing the short distance between them. "They had no idea when you'd wake up. Qui-Gon said something about placing you in a healing trance?" Ahsoka found a perch on the arm of Shmi, who was quick to bring her to the counter. With a smile, Ahsoka eyed the arrangement of fresh foods beside her.

"I'm fine. A bit queasy — I don't know how I ended up—" Her half-hearted gesture back to the sleeping quarters was stopped by a large hand pressing to her upper arm. A solemn note settled in Shmi's dark eyes.

"He said you might not remember. But I don't want you to worry about that right now." She stepped back, her hand falling away. Ahsoka felt the chill rise in place of Shmi's hand. "I'd offer you lunch, but it's not ready just now… And you probably want to go speak with your master."

"Yeah." Ahsoka eased her sudden guilt by straightening the arm band closest to her shoulder. Shmi resumed the churns of preparing lunch, as Ahsoka shuffled a foot into a boot.

"Oh, could you please give this to Ani, when you go? He came looking for it earlier."

A wrench, which Ahsoka had somehow missed, was lifted from the farthest corner of the bench and handed over. Flipping it in her hand with a goodnatured smile, Ahsoka slipped the last foot into her boot. "Will do."

"Oh, and could you tell them all that lunch is nearly ready?"

"Of course." Ahsoka bowed, as habit still dictated she do. Shmi smiled at her, a brief pause to her movements seeming to bring the world around them to a silence. Only then did Ahsoka hear the clamour of a child and the roar of an engine. With a resolute sigh, Ahsoka stood back from the bench, but halted when Shmi's mouth fell open with words she seemingly couldn't bring herself to say. The result was an awkward stutter that was brushed away with a shake of her head. A despondent corner of Ahsoka's lips twisted upwards. The Force didn't need to whisper to her of Shmi's inner turmoil.

"Are you worried about Anakin?" Ahsoka asked.

"Forgive me, but what sort of a mother would I be if I wasn't?" A kind smile met her Ahsoka's, but an involuntary hand tightened into a fist beside Ahsoka's thigh. A moment breathed past.

"He's a gifted boy." Ahsoka finally offered, trying to downplay her resolution with a shrug.

"Yes, he is. Sometimes I think he deserves far more than the life of a slave; more than what little I can give him."

Ahsoka unclenched the fist by her side. Her sudden tenacity saw a hand want to comfort Shmi, but instead she diverted the wandering fingers to rest on the counter top beside her. She wanted to tell her that all would be well. That they'll take Anakin away from all this, that he will have a life worth living; that he'll be a Jedi, good and true.

But even that promise managed to unravel itself and turn on her.

Anakin would fall. _Vader_ would rise in his place. A galaxy would tumble into darkness, and he'd have lost everything that made Anakin Skywalker, _Anakin Skywalker._

So instead, Ahsoka settled on truths that had been engrained deep within her. "Anakin is good, kind, fair, generous and… _so_ much more. And that is all thanks to you, Shmi. He needs you."

Shmi inclined her head. Calloused fingers rested on Ahsoka's wrist over the counter. "You're a good girl... I can see why your Obi-Wan was so worried about you."

And the hand was gone. Ahsoka began to rub her wrist subconsciously as Shmi turned away again. "How so?" She asked.

"He spent the entire night watching over you."

"The _entire_ night."

A light hearted chuckle. "Well, no. I did walk in a few hours before midnight." Dark eyes turned to her, a mischievous glimmer to them. "Poor boy was fast asleep. I'm a stranger to the Force, but even I could sense his embarrassment."

Ahsoka laughed at that, a gentle, mellow chuckle. But it was quickly swallowed by the crippling realisation that she still had _no_ idea _how_ she'd managed to wind up in Anakin's bed, let alone recall anything about the journey between the markets and the slave quarters. So with that in mind, Ahsoka cleared her throat.

"I'll," She looked down, the wrench still in hand. She waved it before her. "go give this to Anakin, and tell them the good news 'bout lunch."

_If this truly is Anakin, he'll be overjoyed._

Shmi smiled, gesturing to the balcony door with a nod of her head. Ahsoka bowed her exit, before crossing the short distance.

The sun was blinding.

Really, there was no other way to put it.

She followed the sound that punctured the midday hum with her eyes, until they rested on… a small gathering of people… no, _children_ , and… a podracer.

Alright, so she'd definitely missed a few things.

Ahsoka fought the urge to turn around and run a few things by Shmi. Instead, she let her eyes do the mental math as she began the descent down poorly constructed stairs.

A podracer chassis and a single engine were hooked up, the other to one side of the courtyard with a hatch open. Anakin sat atop the other engine, smashing some implement against an open port of wires. From the small crowd that had assembled beside him, someone yelled at him. Anakin's only response was to mutter something out that registered to Ahsoka as, "Yeah, yeah… don't worry about it. I got it. _Obi-Wan_ said…"

And then a caterwaul of sound started behind him. Shrill and highpitched, it warbled and burst over everyone present. Anakin's small crowd of tiny followers threw desperate hands to their little ears, even Ahsoka following the motion with her own — though, perhaps a lifetime around species with discernible ears had given her that habit. Her hands could do little to stop the sound that pierced through her skull.

She almost fell the last few steps.

Anakin shot up through the sudden wall of sound, a lone figure that now towered over all. However, the abrupt ominous scene shattered when Anakin whirred around on spindly legs and dashed to the opposing end of his racer engine and tried to wave down whatever or whoever was creating the racket. Ahsoka followed his line of vision until she could make out the pair of trouser and boot-clad legs sticking out from beneath the detached pod engine.

An oily hand flew to Anakin's mouth, yelling something that Ahsoka struggled to hear over the hellish wailing. That failed. He jumped up, stretching to a total of four feet, nine inches, before he began to wave down whoever was under the pod engine. The only form of comfort Ahsoka could find was that the Force remained in relative ease, despite the upset of almost anyone that still occupied this end of Mos Espa.

When the caterwaul suddenly stopped, there was a great communal sigh. Anakin flopped his arms down, the children behind him deflating as well at the sweet relief. Little hands rubbed sore ears and tiny mouths groused about stupid adults. Ahsoka picked herself up from the undignified position against the wall of the slave quarters, and began her way over. Sand flew off her tights and skirt as she dusted herself down.

"You didn't put the dampener on!" Accusation lined Anakin's tone. Ahsoka paused to watch the exchange.

" _What?"_ A strained yell. Ahsoka finally managed a peak at the muggy goggles beneath the pod engine. A gloved hand held a still burning welder.

"You didn't put the — take the earplugs out!" Anakin made a gesture of pulling something from his ear. The sound of shuffling sand, and then a Jedi padawan was quick to shake the infuriating grains out of every fold of his tunics as he picked himself off the ground of Tatooine. Ahsoka eyed him as she continued her approach.

"You didn't put the dampener on."

Obi-Wan's forehead creased, his lips parting in confusion as he eyed the welder in hand. "You actually have to manually put the dampener on this?"

Anakin rolled his eyes (well, he still had his goggles on, but Ahsoka knew that expression.) "Well, duh. Isn't that how it normally is?"

"Well," A recently ungloved hand pulled tattered goggles from his face. "No. It's stock standard across the board — or it should be. Republic legislation." He pumped the welder. "Too much of a risk to anyone in a mile radius, otherwise."

"Well, welcome to the Outer Rim." From behind them, one of Anakin' spectators folded two arms begrudgingly over her chest, huffing at the Jedi. Said Jedi dropped his arms and cocked his head. "Thank you."

Anakin spun around, and as if to defend his new friend's pride, he poked his tongue at her. She was quick to return the gesture.

Fast on the approach was Ahsoka, who could only smile at the scene. "Well, now that you've successfully managed to temporarily deafen anyone in a mile radius," two sets of wide eyes landed on her. "How about you take a break?"

"Ahsoka!" Arguably in unison, the two boys forgot all talk of dampeners and galactic etiquette in favour of wide eyes and furrowed brows.

"You're awake." Obi-Wan's hands disappeared into his sleeves. Anakin's crooked teeth caught her eye, seeming he hadn't removed his goggles yet. She smiled at the display.

"Yeah. Bit sore though." A hand flew down to rub away the dull throb in her right thigh. She seethed when she moved a muscle the wrong way. Obi-Wan's gaze followed with a furrowed brow.

"Careful, you might have strained something when you fell yesterday." His hands slid from his sleeves in order to steady the girl before him. And when large, questioning eyes met his, Obi-Wan resisted the urge to sigh. "I suppose asking you if you remember _anything_ of yesterday is a hopeless cause?"

"You only need to fill me in on whatever happened after the slave auctions." A cold note of silver slid across her gaze. "I have no trouble remembering that, unfortunately."

"Well, Obi-Wan came running across the plaza with you. You had to come back here, because you'd never make it across the Wastes with the Southerly Buster rolling in."

At Anakin's interjection, Ahsoka remembered the wrench and it exchanged hands. However, Obi-Wan spared Anakin a glance before he hurried in to elaborate.

"Thank you, Anakin." A gust of wind threw streams of sand past their feet. "You collapsed while procuring the jams Mrs Skywalker requested. I had to carry you back to the plaza, and," He gestured to Anakin, who up until now had been tapping the end of his wrench against his chin. When he saw the proverbial spotlight had been handed over, his brows shot up beneath the goggles.

"Oh! Yeah, you had to come back here because you never would have made it otherwise. The Southerly Buster would have come and busted you up! Boom!" To emphasise his point, Anakin whacked his wrench against the exterior of his podracer, which sent a reverberating _clang!_ along the structural work.

"Don't _destroy_ it, Ani!" a little voice laughed in Huttesse, and Ahsoka spotted the rodian child dancing from one foot to another in amusement.

"Yeah, I didn't lie to my mom just to watch you ruin your _kachu_ podracer." The same youngling from before stuck her tongue out at Anakin. Again, the nine-year-old was more than happy to return the gesture.

Standing before the children, Ahsoka folded her arms and met the familiar grey of Master Obi-Wan's eyes. A knowing look passed between them before they dared let the situation get out of hand. "Alright, who's hungry?"

_"I am!"_

_"Me!"_

The chorus of bedraggled children earned a gentle chuckle from Obi-Wan, who was more than happy to hand the situation over to Ahsoka… until he met said padawan's eyes. It wasn't until he'd furrowed his brows, and she'd answered his confusion with a jerk of her head did he understand her intentions. He stopped in the sand.

"There are at least _ten_ of them. I don't know if I have enough credits for them all. And then there's the question of whether Republic Dectari—"

"Come on, Obi-Wan."

It wasn't that he loathed to share — quite the opposite actually. It was just that _he_ was the last in possession of any physical credits out here, and once they'd run out, well… They'd run out. Who knew how long they could be stranded here? If Master Qui-Gon's little plan didn't go exactly as he hoped, then one of them would have to start looking for alternate transport back to the Inner Rim. And knowing his master, Obi-Wan would receive that honour. A week into the Inner Rim, and then another week back out just to pick up the Queen? It was too long… too much could happen in a fortnight. Naboo and its people could be left in waste, and her Queen's bloody thumbprint stamped onto a datapad, while she herself lay facedown on the cold tiles beneath.

Granted, it wasn't the _jolliest_ picture to have in the forefront of his mind as Obi-Wan handed a credit chip to each child. A rambled muttering of, "Thanks," and "Cool!" followed the children as they rushed out into the streets beyond. Once the three Jedi… well, two and a half ( _potential half_ , Ahsoka reasoned) were left standing alone in the little courtyard behind the slave quarters, the moment of silence was short-lived.

"Don't be surprised if they're back later, wanting more." Anakin warned as he began the climb up the side of his engine. The mechanical cylinder groaned as the nine-year-old clambered upwards, and Ahsoka was quick to take its weight when it threatened to roll and dump their resident mechanic back on the sand.

"Yeah, I figured that might happen. Now, mind explaining what's wrong with your engine, Skyguy?"

A little head reappeared from the insides of said engine. "Well, Mister Qui-Gon had to buy me a _new_ one. My other one was destroyed."

"Previous race?" At her teasing tone, Ahsoka expected the spluttering start, or at least the guilty dip of his head. When neither came, except a hesitant head shake, Ahsoka frowned. "No?"

"Nu-ah. Came back here yesterday to work on it — starboard engine destroyed."

 _What?_ Ahsoka took a moment. Had this happened last time? Rapidly wracking her brain for anything along the lines of, _destroyed podracer_ and _Anakin_ gave her nothing. So instead, she watched as Anakin plonked himself down on his rear, and sucked on the side of his mouth atop the engine.

"The shed door was locked and everything, too. I don't know how the _kachu_ could have gotten in there. But I bet you it was Sebulba."

From nowhere, Obi-Wan was quick to step into her side. Calloused fingers brushed against the material of her glove as his breath ghosted along her lekku.

"Foul play?" Ahsoka whispered, watching as Anakin tinkered with something that had caught his eye.

"I'd prefer it if it was, but no." At her furrowed markings, Obi-Wan shook his head. "There were what looked like lightsaber scorches along the wiring. At first glance, you wouldn't be able to tell. But once you get closer—"

"You'd be able to smell it,"

"Exactly."

Confusion was quick to muddle her thoughts. Ahsoka bit down on her tongue to stop the threatening, _'This definitely didn't happen last time.'_ Instead, she clenched her fists as Obi-Wan took a step back.

A lightsaber?

She didn't need to ask if he was sure, both he and Master Qui-Gon would have seen… That was enough for her. But still, who would sabotage Anakin's podracer?

Logically, her first thoughts were a slash of red and black… a yellow gaze that longed to see life leave the soul… _but how would he know of Anakin's podracing?_ It was impossible. So, as stumped as she was, Ahsoka could do nothing but shake her head, bewildered. "But who would do that? No one could possibly know that Anakin's gonna race…"

When there was no immediate response from Obi-Wan, no comforting reassurance of their shared bafflement, her eyes snapped up to his. At his raised brow, Ahsoka's hand dropped away from her chin.

Panic gripped her for a fleeting moment — in her race to find an answer, she'd committed the first of many mistakes. She'd unintentionally mentioned the subject of podracing… _without_ having been told prior that someone was going to podrace. Yes, and now Obi-Wan was waiting either for her explanation, or some half-assembled, nonsensical excuse for her bewildered mutterings.

Wanting to slap herself did the situation no good. So instead, Ahsoka wracked her brain for a way around this. She tried to stifle her spark of relief when something occurred to her. Schooling in her expression, she twisted her lip. "What's wrong?"

" _What's…_ How do you know about Anakin being entered into the race?"

_Credit in the air…_

Ahsoka made a show of gesturing to Anakin's precarious position on the podracer engine, and lifted a brow.

"So we're all out here to pass the time? Or maybe Anakin's assembling his podracer back together again because he could be in that Boonta-thing tomorrow."

The slack in Obi-Wan's expression indicated the irritation Ahsoka _hadn't exactly_ meant to cause, but, to finish the saying, _c_ _redit drops._

She couldn't stop the sliver of guilt that crept into her heart. So, shaking her head, Ahsoka grinned and placed a hand against Obi-Wan's robed arm. "Come on, Kenobi. You can chastise me after lunch. But right now,"

"Lunch?"

A head of dirty-blond hair bounced into view above them, cutting Ahsoka off before she could say otherwise. So instead, she nodded.

"Ah-huh. Finish up quick, so we can go grab something."

" _Wizard._ I'm vanished. How 'bout you Obi-Wan? Could you hold this for me? Thanks." Anakin dumped some part of his engine into Obi-Wan's arms, which must have been important for it was still whirring. With wide eyes and an arched marking, Ahsoka turned to the boy. However, it was Obi-Wan that beat her to the mark.

"Anakin? You've pulled your spark pistons out."

"And?" Another port fell open on the side of the engine, Anakin inspecting its interior. Ahsoka shook her head.

"Every mechanic knows you can't just pull the spark pistons out willy-nilly, Skyguy."

"It'll take at least another two hours _at best_ to recalibrate the output control." Obi-Wan looked as though he'd just been passed a severed head. The words, _so uncivilised_ , seemed to echo from some distant part of herself. At her unwanted smile, Ahsoka covered her guilt by going to collect the engine part from Obi-Wan.

"Well, I pull my spark pistons out. Always works for me." Anakin said.

At his remark though, Ahsoka rolled her eyes. Obi-Wan's agreement came in the form of his frown. "We'll handle this after lunch. Master Qui-Gon should be back soon."

As though the mention of his master had put a bounce in Ahsoka's step, the Togruta took a liberal step away from him, her lekku skimming her shoulders as her head turned from one end of the courtyard to the other.

"Lost something, Ahsoka?" Obi-Wan laughed, but his amusement was cut short by Ahsoka's sudden fumble. A knee shot up, an elbow extended at a jaunty new angle — "Oh dear." And Obi-Wan flew over. Anakin's spark piston had fallen out of hand, the misshaped box giving a soft mechanical whir as though in sudden disagreement with its mishandle. Ahsoka twisted.

"'sallright. Got it." And sure enough, she did. Mere inches from her face now was Obi-Wan Kenobi, and Ahsoka couldn't stop the lopsided grin she wore. "And I haven't lost anything, Obi-Wan. _You_ , however, seemed to have misplaced your master."

"It might shock you to learn," Obi-Wan turned away, dipping his head in the direction of the arm he'd extended towards the Skywalker residence. "But just like you, Master Qui-Gon has a habit of appearing when you least expect him to."

"Great minds think alike, then." But at her smirk, she merely saw the impudence mirrored back. Again, she counted two dimples she'd never once glimpsed beneath the facial hair.

"Anakin, where do you want this?" She turned away, back to the boy who was now sliding panels shut on his engine. With a vague flick of his wrist, which suggested he neither cared nor was really paying any attention, Anakin gestured to a plot of sand to her left. "Right there should do it."

And Ahsoka was more than happy to dump the piston. And it seemed the feeling was mutual, for the little box gave an ungrateful whine when she placed it on level sand.

Dusting off her hands, Ahsoka began the trek back to the house (remembering to collect Anakin on the way). The boy gave a start as she clamped two hands on his shoulders and began to steer him away from his podracer. When she met resistance, looking down proved that bright blue eyes were locked onto the underside of her jaw.

"I thought you were hungry." she laughed.

"Yeah, but I still need to balance out—"

"After lunch. I'm hungry, you're hungry," she gestured to her left. "Obi-Wan's _vanished._ "

She swore black and blue she heard Obi-Wan mutter a sarcastic, _"Where did I go?"_ beneath his breath. She knew Anakin hadn't heard, but it was a struggle to press her lips together and suppress the threatening smile.

"Well, after lunch, I'm gonna need to balance out the power array. And then I'm gonna have to tweak the sparkers."

"Not until you've placed the spark pistons _back_ inside the engine, _and_ recalibrated the power outputs."

At Obi-Wan's subtle admonishment, the youngling rushed forward a few steps in the sand to get a better look at the twenty-five-year-old Jedi-padawan-turned-mechanic. Walking backwards now, Anakin cocked his head. His frown appeared below his fringe. "Are you _really_ not meant to take out the spark piston?"

"Yes," Obi-Wan's incredulous tone prompted Anakin's thoughtful chewing.

"Mechanics 101, Anakin." Ahsoka offered, shrugging her shoulders in defeat. "Unless of course you like the idea of sitting 'round for an extra two-three hours rewiring power outages." _Won't make that mistake again._ It'd been rather poor timing as well, when she'd somehow accidentally ripped the spark pistons from the engine on Mortis. It had not been a proud moment — what little power she had running, _died_ when she effectively pulled the plug. In all honesty, it didn't surprise her that Obi-Wan had such a reaction to Anakin. He'd had a similar reaction from the the cockpit back on Mortis. However, his admonishment came more in the form of patient guidance.

"Ahsoka, why did the power go out?"

_Oh Kriff._

"I… _may_ have pulled the plug, Master."

" _This is my fault._ Did Anakin never teach you the difference between the quadrilateral rotary, and the spark piston?"

"Can't say it came up."

An exasperated Master Kenobi had appeared above the engine duct, wiping away the exhaustion from his face before he was taking in the situation. Ahsoka had to admit, she didn't think she made an overly impressive image in that moment; what, holding the the literal plug to the shuttle before her like some last-minute gift.

It had been awfully good of Master Kenobi to spend the next half hour rewiring the power output, she herself balled in a corner watching with guilty eyes as Master Obi-Wan was zapped for the sixth time. In the end, the predicament with Anakin and the Son — _the Darkside —_ had called Master Obi-Wan away, but a confident Ahsoka stood (scrunched) in his stead, and rewired the mess she had (accidentally) made.

She'd made a point of asking Anakin to teach her the difference between rather deceptively-similar parts of an engine, and he'd been more than pleased to 'talk shop' as Padm— _his wife_ liked to put it.

A shiver, despite the existence of Tatooine, brought her out of her brief lapse into her memories, and deposited her in the common area of the Skywalker residence. Anakin was pushing her into a seat, beside Obi-Wan who was attempting to usher Shmi into a seat so he could finish serving.

Ahsoka nudged her knee against his when Anakin had managed to push the seat in behind him, knocking the padawan's knees out and into the seat. At the contact, Obi-Wan turned his frown on her. When her eyes narrowed, he was quick to cough away his momentary bitterness.

It seemed to be fate that the small party of four expanded to seven with the sudden arrival of Master Qui-Gon, Padmé Naberrie and Artoo-Detoo in tow and treading sand through the home. However, as the makeshift table accepted the new arrivals, Artoo was thankfully not in need of lunch, so wheeled himself to a corner and powered down for the time being.

Conversation did cover Master Qui-Gon's outing, and the small bag of food stuffs that Padmé had set on the bench behind them gave Ahsoka some insight into why Padmé had not remained in the courtyard. It seemed Qui-Gon had returned to the plaza to finalise the entering of Anakin Skywalker on behalf of both their party _and_ Watto. Winnings were to be split evenly. If not, Qui-Gon forfeited the ship.

Obi-Wan would be on the next transport to the Inner Rim. Alone.

With a mouthful of dune-leaves, Ahsoka had wanted to prompt Qui-Gon to finish on a high note — that Anakin would be free by this time tomorrow. However, she bit her own tongue in the sudden fluster to _not_ say anything of the sort.

She swallowed. Heavily.

Yes, there was the danger of revealing too much if she encouraged Qui-Gon to relay Anakin's possible freedom, but...

What if Anakin didn't win?

Force be kind, too many things were already different. Too many factors had changed.

Anakin's podracer had been sabotaged. _Using a lightsaber._ That alone scared her. Darth Maul? The ultimate question was, _how would he know?_ Then there was the itch at the back of her skull, something she simply couldn't scratch. That vision she and Obi-Wan had shared... Something had happened. The way Obi-Wan had immediately scanned her over with the Force when she'd found him sitting beneath the tarp-sail... The way she'd _collapsed_ in the marketplace with no memory.

She still had no answers.

So for the rest of lunch, Ahsoka sat in relative silence, paying half an ear and half a smile to both conversations. Her hand tingled, but no amount of scratching seemed capable of alleviating the burn beneath the flesh. Eventually, it was the cool press of another palm that calmed her fidgeting.

Obi-Wan continued a conversation with both Padmé and Shmi, the perfect image of Jedi chivalry as both women laughed at some word game he'd spun. However, one hand remained fixed on Ahsoka's wrist, the cool of the Force marvellous against her aching joints. It was inevitable that Qui-Gon would notice, but he paid little heed nor made any comment at the sudden surge in the Force.

Ahsoka was an enigma that both he and his padawan were struggling to unwind.

And as if her predicament alone could cause a headache, the added weight of his liability for the Nubian entourage, and now this small family of two...

Perhaps once this mission was completed, Qui-Gon could request a brief inter-mission break for himself and Obi-Wan. Force knew he could see himself visiting Mreniol again, and that lovely infinity-lake on the southern continent. He just hoped this time, Obi-Wan wouldn't sit and sulk in his room.


	18. Just a Boy

_"Your Highness. A boy?"_

"Yes, Sabé. A boy."

Even across the distance, and through the poor connection which even then could barely be established here on Tatooine, the doubt tainted her decoy's garbled tone. A frown soured Padmé's features as she turned further into the corner that housed her, and came face-to-face with the crumbling mortar of the Skywalker residence. Shmi Skywalker herself laboured over an array of mechanics on the opposing side of the common area, deftly sliding from one greasy component to another. Padmé watched her with a belated interest, waiting for her decoy's next, measured sentence.

" _Do you trust the Master Jedi's judgment, my queen?"_

Padmé's eyes darted away from Shmi's worn frown, stifling the sudden want to sigh or huff. It was a good question, and one she was eager to answer with an array of suggested slights on this Master Qui-Gon — but then Shmi Skywalker placed a durasteel rotor down, a contented sigh the fruit of her labour, and —

"Yes. Yes, I do trust him. Inform Captain Panaka that I wish to maintain radio silence until after the race tomorrow." She turned away from the scene before her, pressing her back against the cool surface of the dividing wall she'd stashed herself behind earlier. "You shall know the outcome by late tomorrow morning." A beat of silence where Padmé weighed the risks of abandoning etiquette, before, "Be of strong heart, my friend."

 _"My heart is strong for you and our people, Your Highness."_ A hesitant moment where Padmé was sure that if she were standing in the same room as Sabé, the girl would be sending a wavering look to Captain Panaka and his narrowed, discerning gaze. _'Please be safe, Padmé.'_

"I promise, I will Sabé. Give my love to the others."

_"Of course. Amidala out."_

The click of her communicator as it slipped into her pocket still rung in her ears, even as she slipped out from the corner and made conversation with the older woman. It still rung, even as she was ushered out the door and asked to go check in with Anakin and his two Jedi friends. Padmé was sure Shmi had sent her out solely to give her something to do — the young queen couldn't complain about the idea. Even she had caught herself wandering aimlessly from one side of the common area to the other. One wall, for another, one wall… for another.

But even as Padmé had slipped three credits of the foreign currency into the hands of the vender by the wasting outskirts of the town, the ring of her communicator still battled with her senses.

Was she right to trust this Master Jinn — to place this much faith in him?

Anakin had endeared himself to her, most definitely. Between his lopsided smiles offered through crooked teeth, and his keen, almost childish intrigue with anything mechanical, yes. Yes, Padmé enjoyed his company. He was eager to engage her in every topic that popped into his head, never slowing for a breath… and in some respects, Padmé found his youthful innocence a welcomed reticence from the constant bombardment of _Queen Amidala_. Here, in the sands of Tatooine, she did not have to be the Queen of a Republic system nor planet… she was simply Padmé Naberrie, kept entertained by a child and his kind-hearted mother.

She didn't stifle the pang of guilt that snaked up her back as she wound her way through the sand. A few thousand lightyears away, a planet of men, women and children begged at the knees of the Trade Federation. And here she was, playing house with a family of two, and three Jedi — one of which her security team watched with constant narrowed eyes.

And speaking of which,

_"Not long now. He's got a minute if he wants to have a chance of pulling into the lead tomorrow."_

_There they are!_ Practically wrenched from her thoughts, Padmé shuffled the four drink cartons into one hand, and hauled herself up a particularly bulbous rock.

"What about the modifications we made on the power subsidisers? He should be pulling well ahead of time if he's got a straight ru—"

"And he just activated them. Here, Ahsoka. Take a look."

She found the two padawans stretched out on an overhang of rock, overlooking the monstrous curve of a deserted grandstand. The desert seemed to stretch on for an eternity, framing the two oddities in a sea of brown and yellow. Padmé came to a stop just behind. A pair of macro-binoculars were handed to Ahsoka, Padmé noticing that they had certainly seen better days.

She paused, straining her eyes over the scene before her to try and catch a glimpse of whatever it was that had enwrapped their attentions so. In truth, she was looking for a small, elegant flash of silver speeding across the horizon. What she wasn't expecting was the distant, sonic _boom!_ to reach her senses before the sight of him did. To accompany the muffled blast was the sharp click of the adjusting lenses. Ahsoka's delighted ' _hah!'_ was followed by the reshuffling of her limbs which brought her forward, eager to see more of the spectacle.

"He's gotta be making good time — _Padmé!"_ The joy on Ahsoka's face sent a smile across her own. There was something genuine in the way her brows lifted and cheeks creased.

The reaction was immediate; the older Jedi had sat up, never mind the rush of sand that vacated his person's as he did so. However, a delicate hand waved him down with an almost childish persistence.

"Please, Padawan Kenobi. There's no need."

And then she was beside them in the sand, sweeping and tucking her peasant garb beneath her with an eagerness that forced the two Jedi to wriggle across and make room. Their eyes met, and a quick gesture from Ahsoka and a passing of the macro-binoculars sent Obi-Wan back to the task of watching a distant Anakin. Ahsoka expelled a lungful of air; they were in the company of Padmé Naberrie, Queen Amidala having been left onboard ship.

Said girl found a rock in the sand to occupy her hands as Ahsoka sat up. The movement of soft hands caught a caring eye.

"Careful. You'll find all that under your fingernails come tomorrow morning." Ahsoka warned.

Brown, doe eyes peered up at her, before guilty hands were wiping at her sides. "I brought you something to drink." Padmé gave a vacant smile as she caught the edge of apology in Ahsoka's eye. Clearly, she hadn't meant to deter her so. No, in all honesty it was better that Ahsoka had picked up on her juvenile habits. Although the reason why, she wasn't quite ready yet to admit to herself. Some selfish part of her wished to maintain the illusion — that she was just a fourteen-year-old girl with friends, rather than the queen of a planet-turned-board-piece in this political game of the galaxy's making.

It was selfish and childish.

"That was kind of you," Ahsoka took a sip and Padmé noted the grateful, inescapable dip of her head. Again, that paradox sprung to mind. Here was a woman who, to this point, embodied the image of the mystical Jedi, yet claimed no allegiance to the ancient order.

"Mmm… Plotor Juice. Thanks. Hey, Mast— _Blast._ Obi-Wan."

Padmé signed that one over as well to the growing case for _'Jedi Tano'_. The look in Kenobi's eyes was enough of a testimony to back that fact. A carton was passed to a decidedly parched Jedi padawan, and Padmé noted again that distinguishing dip of the head when the carton changed hands.

"How is Anakin getting along?" she asked, raising a hand to block the suns. Her question seemed to spark something in Kenobi, for he was sitting up once more and shaking loose the sand.

"Rather well, actually." The note of surprise in his tone and eyes had Padmé furrowing her brows. Just beyond Kenobi, Ahsoka rolled her eyes.

"Skyguy's navigated his way around the course twice now, and picked up speed during his straight runs."

"That'd be the modifications you made to the… powersubsidisers?" Padmé tipped her head.

"Yeah." The older girl hummed, and Padmé caught the lilting surprise in her eye. Well, to be far, it was not as though she knew exactly what they were doing with Anakin's racer, it had just been hard to turn a deaf ear when the three of them had been so loud all afternoon.

She'd watched them from what she'd deemed the sidelines to their match of mechanics. It was a funny game, riddled with shouting, laughing, side-taking and disarming bouts of tenderness. All afternoon, the three Jedi, Anakin and Artoo laboured over the dismembered podracer. Padmé tried to keep up, but they'd lost her at rerouting the spark pistons that Anakin had apparently pulled out with no thoughts for Kenobi's back later that afternoon.

Anakin's droid had been insistent in offering her tea, or any other form of beverage when that failed, and verbally pushing her into what he deemed a 'less hostile' environment, ( _'Would Milady not like to come stand in the shade?' 'No, I'll be right, Threepio.')_ A crowd of children came and went and Shmi swept around with water for all (Padmé jumped at the opportunity of a conversation more within her sphere — poor Ahsoka had tried teaching her the difference between a rotor-pull and a reroute-plug, but that was quickly a lost cause). The better half of an afternoon was spent on ensuring Anakin's racer started to resemble a racer rather than a sad pile of engine parts.

It was Qui-Gon who took pity on her next, having Artoo show her how to rewire a power board that had been scavenged from the carnage of the 'incident' earlier that morning. She had to admit, she was curious about the singeing at the ends of Kenobi's robe. The engine had apparently blown while he'd been face down inside — Ahsoka's sudden burst of laughter caught her off guard, and Padmé'd nearly severed Artoo's welder from his body. The droid had whirred in fright, Padmé running an apologetic hand down its side. Ahsoka braced herself on an engine, not quite caring enough to stop her laughter. Master Qui-Gon tugged on that braid dangling by his apprentice's neck, the not-quite-but-close murderous expression on Kenobi's face fading away, along with the tinge of bright red embarrassment.

It wasn't long at all before the courtyard was humming — quite literally. The electric field from Anakin's racer doused the sand in purple, and Anakin himself proclaimed their success over the roar of his engines. She shared their moment of triumph with Threepio, the droid waving his arms in relief. It was then that Qui-Gon suggested the two younger Jedi take Anakin and his racer down to the track to give it a test-run — a suggestion that had the boy tugging on the sleeves of his two new best friends. Padmé watched as Anakin babbled about _'...the Boonta Eve Classic — it's so good!',_ while Kenobi and Tano nodded to appease his every wild gesture. She would have accompanied them too, but it was a chance to send a radio transmission back to the cruiser.

Somehow, she'd found herself deep in conversation with Shmi Skywalker, neglecting the communicator in hand as she sat by the older woman. She'd helped fold laundry, and as Anakin's mother drifted between the many successes of her son, Padmé again felt guilt winding through her. It wasn't hard to catch the immeasurable unrest in those gentle eyes. The truth niggled at her once more, threatening the resolve that Master Jinn had placed within her with his assurances.

Anakin was just a boy.

_"Here, Padmé. Take a look."_

Ahsoka wrenched her from her thoughts, Kenobi passing the macro-binoculars. Mentally shaking herself back into the situation, Padmé pushed herself to her knees and shuffled forward heavily through the sand. The macro-binoculars were inseparable from her face as she scanned the wavering horizon for any signs of that sleek flash of silver.

"Two clicks to your left, your Highness."

Kenobi's hand was suddenly at the divide of the binoculars, delicate fingers shifting her view just so. And sure enough, she saw the stream of sand sailing across the backdrop of distant rocks. The streamline-pod glided across the landscape, lifting sand and sending it soaring. Even though the howl of his engines were now silent to her ears again, she could virtually hear the rumble of its roar, it wasn't difficult to imagine.

"He's so fast." And he was. It was hard to keep him as the constant centre of her vision as she watched him pull between punching outcrops of rock.

"On straight runs, yes. He does tend to lose a few seconds when it comes to tight corners." Kenobi's voice drifted from her right.

A moment passed where the young queen seemed to battle with unspoken words before, "I have faith in him." Little Ani swerved around a large pylon of rock, before he forced the pod to perform some stunt that defied the laws of physics. The racer slammed into the opposite direction of where its momentum wanted to send it hurtling. It powered through another set of curves with effortless ease, disappearing through a chasm. "He wasn't so bad on that corner."

"That's because Anakin learns quickly." Ahsoka answered.

Padmé spared a glance to Ahsoka, her wording sparking the Queen's interest. It was an odd thing to say with such surety — she'd only known the boy for little more than forty-eight hours. But then again, who was she to judge? In the young hands of this boy, she'd placed the fate of her entourage, and by extension, the entirety of Naboo.

_"And because Obi-Wan here told him off for it."_

"I did not."

_"You did."_

Kenobi looked a mix between scandalised and victimised, as though he couldn't tell which he wanted to be. A sudden, distantly echoing _boom_ sent Padmé back to the macro-binoculars once more. A hazy, technical readout revealed Anakin's podracer tearing out of another cavern, and ploughing across the sand.

_"I simply informed him that if he didn't make it around the fourth bend by the three minute mark, he would forfeit first place."_

_"Which Anakin then took as a reprimand."_

_"Why would he?"_

_"Because you have a nasty habit of sounding unimpressed when you're unsure about something."_

_"And you would know this because?"_

_"Let's see... Why do you think?"_

_"Oh, yes. Of course."_

A moment passed where Padmé hoped they were done. She readjusted the lens of her 'binoculars.

"Where is he now? Still looping through the canyons?" Kenobi asked, coming to rest beside her. The Queen shook her head, and the chewing of her lip caused him to lift a brow.

"No, he's left the canyons. He's out in the open."

Qui-Gon's apprentice said nothing, but Padmé could imagine the faint frown of confusion on his face. So before he could ask to see for himself, she passed the macro-binoculars back to grateful hands. A sway of brown, sand covered robes swept over her as Kenobi jumped to his feet. While grains rained down on her, Ahsoka followed suite and mirrored his confusion at his side.

"He's learning," came after a belated moment, where Kenobi swept the horizon in a gentle line. From her position below, Padmé watched their expressions morph. The girl beside him now wore a positively blatant smirk.

"Told you he would." A well-meaning hand came to rest on his sleeve, and the binoculars were deftly passed while Kenobi still tracked the middle distance in an ambivalent mix of surprise and confusion. Ahsoka took a step forward past her companion, adjusting lenses and sweeping the landscape before them.

A beat of silence passed before she offered her observation. "He's learning to use the modifications we made. Guessing he found the correct output on the power subsidisers… I'd say that's a success."

"All thanks to your ingenuity." Kenobi quipped. 

The 'binoculars fell away from her face, the shadow they cast across her lips gone. Instead, she frowned in the flooding sunlight. "Is that a roundabout way of praising yourself? If you hadn't tripped over the subsidisers in the first place, it wouldn't have occurred to me."

" _Thank you._ But no, I think those alterations were the much needed final piece to this puzzle." Kenobi finished with a mindful glance at the younger Jedi, before turning away. And as if sensing her sudden discomfort from below, Kenobi took two steps towards Padmé and deftly helped her from the ground. His measured bow prompted an awkward tug at her lip before she found the macro-binoculars hovering before her face again.

"He's got four more turns left, and then he's done." Ahsoka crossed her arms. Kenobi folded his neatly away behind heavy sleeves. He turned a calculating expression on Ahsoka.

"If he's pulled ahead by, what, forty-seconds?"

"Yeah, about that." she replied.

"Well then, I think that's enough for the day. He's done well."

The conversation died as a deep, mechanical rumble called Ahsoka's gaze away, Kenobi following suite as his and Padmé's hearing caught up. The two Jedi fell in line at her sides, Padmé watching the little podracer streamline towards the final curve into the grandstand. The roar of his engines grew in power and intensity, and finally she could discern the pilot within. Hands steady, hair billowing — the small boy threw his racer over the finish line.

"Come on."

Once the three of them had made it down the tumbling sand dunes and rocky outcrops, Anakin had just brung his racer to a dead stop. As wandering blue caught sight of the three approaching figures, his entire face lit up like a Coruscanti night. He sprung upwards in the pod, sandy-blond hair falling out of his helmet as he wrenched it off. His entire aura seemed to will them to walk faster.

" _Did you see that?_ It was just like you said, Obi-Wan. You just gotta find the right power output."

"Yes, I saw. Well done, Anakin. That run was your best by far." Obi-Wan came to a stop beside him, but Anakin's smile had already moved on to the other two.

"See? Told you I was the fastest." The proud puff of his chest caused Padmé to press he lips together.

Yes. If there was a chance that they could be back on their way to the Galaxy's Capital come sun down tomorrow... it would lie in the small, determined hands of Anakin Skywalker. Talent and intellect, mixed with a helping of childlike innocence. Perhaps she _was_ right to trust this Master Jinn. "I didn't doubt you for a minute, Ani."

"No one did, Skyguy. But make sure you don't get a big head. You've still gotta factor in the other racers tomorrow. And the race jitters." Ahsoka strode towards him throughout her gentle reproach, Anakin's head falling to one, lopsided angle. But instead of looking as though he were fed up with another earful (Stars knew he'd been receiving them _all_ afternoon), he slipped into the awaiting arms of Obi-Wan with a frown. "Race jitters?"

Kenobi deposited the boy onto the ground with an ' _oomph!'_ , before returning his helmet and goggles back to the cockpit of the racer. Anakin tucked a bracket into his pocket before starting forward towards the other two.

"Race jitters. You know, nerves?" A sun-kissed hand slipped onto his shoulder, directing his feet back towards the space port. But a sudden tug on Ahsoka's arm that pulled her up short. " _Hey,"_

Anakin had stopped, and judging by the smile that lit up Padmé's face, he was waiting for her to join. The colour drained from Ahsoka's face. The gloved hand at her side curled, and she tried not to twist her fingers into the fabric at his shoulder. There was a sudden unwelcome wrench in her gut, all brought from the minuscule, insignificant exchange. Shields were slammed up — she paid no heed to the roaming eyes of Obi-Wan. (Yet again, she knew he was itching for an explanation, but she couldn't afford to offer him one. Not for some time.)

"Hey, how about you two go ahead? Obi-Wan and I will pull your pod back."

Those uneven teeth in his smile were on display once more. "'Kay, thanks. _Hey Padmé_ ," and he was away, Ahsoka thankful for her shielding again. She wanted to _not_ see yellow eyes and dark features turn away. She loathed the fact that her middle churned when she watched him pull into the shadow of the setting suns with Padmé in tow.

…

Ahsoka jumped when she felt the gentle brush of fingers at her arm. Grey eyes entreated her softly. "Why is it, that every time you see him smile at her, I feel as though I'm waiting for the ground to split open behind you?"

"What do you mean?" She knew feigning innocence wasn't going to work, not on someone like Obi-Wan. She'd buried herself too deeply into this one.

"You look as though you've seen a ghost."

 _You have no idea._ "It's nothing." It was obvious her smile failed to muster the conviction needed to sell the lie. So instead, she took the other rope he held in hand, tugged... and sighed when he refused to move. Turning back around brought his expectant brow lift into startling clarity, and she herself to a mild fit of panic and frustration (all hidden well behind shielding that irked him, he couldn't discern a thing).

"They just, remind me of someone. Of… _two_ someones — _I mean!_ People. Two people, I once knew." Her tongue flickered in a muted curse. It wasn't like her at all to trip over words…

The last week didn't... didn't count.

Obi-Wan took a sudden step forward, pulling her with him. "My dear Ahsoka, for future reference… You need to get better at lying."

Did he know? _How could he not know?_ She was so painfully obvious, but... she'd be damned before she shrugged Anakin away and held him at a cool arm's length. However, Obi-Wan's lighthearted slap on the wrist gave her what she needed — a desperate change of subject. "You know, I never thought I'd see the day where Obi-Wan Kenobi encouraged me to lie." A scandalised marking was arched, and she didn't bother to hide the brazen twist of her lips.

"They are few and far between, believe me. Oh, and I'd ask you not to tell Master Qui-Gon I said anything of the sort."

She breathed a sigh of relief behind her shielding. Her end of the rope went slack as Kenobi begun the trek forward. "Kitchen duty?"

"No, worse. I'll be forced to give moral-guidance lectures to younglings again."

 _Huh?_ "That's not right. Thought that'd be right up your alley."

Obi-Wan's sudden change of expression would have been more at home if she'd just told him something inconceivable... like she had fallen through time. "Well, judging by _that_... No, not quite yet."

"You sound like someone I once knew." she mused.

All that was missing was the Skywalker cadence.

The wind picked up, the hot breath of the Tatooine desert breathing against her face. She'd stood still too long then — his expression changed again, and she couldn't quite discern what this one meant. If she recalled to mind all the nuances of Master Kenobi, the gentle consideration in his eyes fell somewhere alongside quiet concern. "Ahsoka, with all the cryptic allusions you're drawing, I'd say you know everyone here at least to some degree."

"Yeah. The crazy jam lady happens to be my grandmother."

His laughter turned the corners of her lips again, and she smiled at the ground ahead before she allowed it all to go to her head.

"Come on, Kenobi. Let's get going before I have to explain to Master Qui-Gon why I kept you for so long."

"If he's even back by the time we get there."

With a quiet press from the Force, a podracer and two Jedi began their trek back to the slave quarters.


	19. The Tatooine Night

"Will you come and watch me race tomorrow?"

"Anakin. I did not lay in the sand for several hours, rewire circuits that would normally require several days to repair in the space of _half,_ and spend the late afternoon timing your speed round that track, just to spend tomorrow locked in the hold of a ship, reading schematics."

"Yippee!"

As a small body collided with the larger, Ahsoka found herself steadying the captured Obi-Wan.

"You know, you could have just said 'yes'." Anakin said, muffled by tunic. A hesitant hand came up to pat the sandy-blond, Anakin shaking away the long sleeve that fell over his face. Now reluctant to pry the vice-like arms and squished face away from his tunic and middle, Obi-Wan's eyes rose to meet the amused gaze of his only chance at liberation.

"Hey, Skyguy. How 'bout you let Obi-Wan go before you break him."

Thankfully it worked, and the use of that peculiar nickname persuaded the boy to allow him precious air once more. Surprise still tainted Obi-Wan's aura as Anakin peeled his face away. Ahsoka sent an arched brow his way, before she'd sunk to eye level with Anakin.

The corners of Anakin's smile fell. For all his elation, when he stared into those eyes, he couldn't help but return that unexplainable sadness she seemed to perpetuate behind every wide grin. But Gods help him, he couldn't explain what it was or why. Every time she looked his way, that smile would take flight across her features.

Anakin wasn't sure if Obi-Wan saw the falter around her mouth or eyes, but he did.

Was it her visions again?

Had he done something?

Anakin blinked up at the Jedi padawan in front from him. "You're definitely coming tomorrow, right?"

"I wouldn't miss it for the universe, Skyguy."

The ground became awfully interesting then, but he couldn't quieten his hands as they began to fidget with the brackets he still held. "That's a pretty big thing to promise on."

"And that's why I'm using it." The hand at his shoulder was gone then, and once again Ahsoka towered over him with that kind, but always bewildering tilt of her lips. What had he done to deserve such a smile? A hand passed through his hair, but it wasn't enough.

Anakin frowned. "You sure you can't stay?"

"And where would we fit? Your room is overflowing with people. I think Master Jinn would fight us over the couch. And besides, we'll only be gone a few hours. First thing tomorrow, Skyguy, we'll be knocking on your door." As she laughed, Anakin counted the two pointed teeth peering past her lips. He tried not the hunch as her hands settled at her hips. "If you can't let us go for a few hours, then what are you going to do after tomorrow?"

He laughed, but the sound died in his mouth. The horrible, dwindling splutter left Ahsoka wanting to claw her own eyes out — how ignorant could she possibly get? Even Obi-Wan, who had been busy waving down his master, turned at Anakin's faltering laughter. Two strides later, Qui-Gon was with them. Anakin sent a nervous glance upwards — the kind that spoke of a child unsure of how to ask his next, precious question.

"I was hoping that you'd — that maybe I could—" _You just got here. And now you're leaving?_

Before either padawans could answer, Master Qui-Gon harrumphed. Ahsoka's fists curled, and _again,_ that ice cracked at her fingertips.

The Living Force flickered in protest.

"We'll talk about that later, Ani. For now, you must come inside. You have a big day tomorrow." Brown eyes lifted to the two padawans standing side-by-side in the waning sunlight. "Obi-Wan and Ahsoka have business back on board. The Queen shall want an update." Two large hands seemed to belittle Anakin's already slight shoulders when placed there. But a finger and thumb rubbed the rough material gathered at his neck, and a much-needed smile quirked the boy's lips.

"You'll need your rest before tomorrow, Anakin." Obi-Wan said then, calling Anakin's attention back to him.

"But what if I can't sleep?" An apologetic half-smile turned up towards to the towering Jedi Master behind him. "I always get nervous before a race, and then I can't sleep."

"Have you tried counting banthas?" Obi-Wan offered, and smiled at the incredulous curl of Anakin's lip and the mind-boggled frown.

"Counting banthas? How am I supposed to count banthas if I can't _see_ any? And even if I could, how is _that_ supposed to put me to sleep?"

"It's a saying, Anakin." The older padawan shook his head, unable to wipe the smile from his face. But confusion still swamped Anakin, so a tiny chin fell upwards to get a glance at Master Qui-Gon again. From below, Anakin could barely make out the amused smile on the man's face, but he certainly heard the rumble of deep laughter in his chest.

"Don't listen to him, Anakin. Obi-Wan's spent far too many nights with his friends, and sourcing reading material that strays from his studies."

" _No_ , I'm a suffering insomniac that doesn't find offence at any suggestions offered. Though I must say, Master Qui-Gon's Temple-famous sleeping-draft never fails to do the trick."

"What's that?"

The moment of jest broke when Anakin and Ahsoka both asked the same question in unison. However, it wasn't the unison that caused Obi-Wan to do a doubletake, rather it was the intonation and the frown on both — somehow, there was an undeniable similarity between the two that spoke volumes, yet he couldn't decipher what exactly had been said. Obi-Wan blinked, before he got his mouth working again. "Huh? Oh. Blue milk. Curtinal spices, Nubian sugar, and… I _believe_ it's—"

"You will never know, padawan-mine."

Obi-Wan spared an arched brow at his master, the impish smile growing fast as he folded sleeves and crossed arms.

— _One day, Master, you'll let your guard down. —_

_— I await the day, Padawan, when you finally remember to shield yourself properly before you sneak into the kitchen. —_

"Hey, I really hate to interrupt your conversation, but," A pointed finger and extended arm from Ahsoka directed their attentions beyond the slave quarters and towards the distant, shifting sand dunes. A line of white caught their gaze, seeming to grow at an alarming rate on the horizon. An image of distant Separatist tanks, the ominous rumble trembling through the ground where they stood — even the billowing cloud of dust stirred upwards was present, gathering bulk and intensity at the edge of the skyline. This organic mass slowly creeped upwards with the same merciless determination. Clouds burst outwards, warning of a storm of menacing strength and ferocity. However, the installed fear of tanks and droids also brought another impending element… an army of that strength and magnitude would herald the arrival of a leader swamped in Darkness.

Ahsoka held a hand up to the wind.

" _Whoa…_ That's one big Southerly Buster." Anakin voiced, his wonder and awe not exactly shared by the rest of his company.

"You best go." Qui-Gon gestured towards the developing storm front. A howl of wind billowed through their tunics and ponchos. The sand grated in hair and bit at skin. "It's an hour away, two at best. Contact me when you reach the ship."

"Yes, Master." And with a final, shared bow, the two padawans were turning away.

Anakin watched as their boots stirred the sand, unhurried. Were they really that unperturbed by the fact that the biggest evening storm Anakin had ever seen was rolling in from Anchorhead? But by the time Qui-Gon was turning him back into the house, both Ahsoka and Obi-Wan were rapid-moving blurs across the sand — they'd disappeared towards the Wastes just as Qui-Gon shut the door behind them.

The two were plunged into momentary darkness. But even then, somehow Anakin could feel (and he couldn't explain to you _how_ he could) a burning light just behind him. He looked… there was nothing. Just Qui-Gon. "Mister Qui-Gon, sir?"

"Hmm?"

"No one survives long in a storm like that."

Gentle hands squeezed him in silent reassurance. The tension fled from his hunched shoulders, the wave of calm chasing away all needling thought of Obi-Wan and Ahsoka. "You have nothing to worry about, Anakin. Obi-Wan and Ahsoka will be fine."

"Okay… If you say so."

It was the Queen's face that appeared around the corner, a hand extending a glass of blue milk to the boy. Qui-Gon sent the two off, and as they disappeared to the sleeping quarters, Qui-Gon paused by the makeshift table. As though his own pause had caused hers, Shmi came to a stop on the opposing side of the room. A quiet head dipped, and Qui-Gon sent a smile her way when he realised he'd remained silent too long. Shmi narrowed her eyes. "Forgive me, but if you tell me it is nothing —"

"It is…" The woman's eyes flickered at him almost dangerously. "… merely the storm."

If perhaps that had calmed her sudden concern, the wind chose that moment to howl against the door. As though someone had fallen against the heavy duratseel, the wind rushed into every crevice. Shmi's gaze darted to the door and back to him.

"Will they be alright?"

"They will if they stay out of trouble."

She turned her head, reshuffling the basket of laundry at her hip. "Oh, when you say it like that…" To emphasise her point, the wind rattled once more against the door, now reaching the flimsy transparisteel windows. "It's going to be a nasty Southerly Buster, this one."

* * *

"They should be here by now." The agitated grumble of the pilot broke the pin-drop silence the cockpit sat in. Captain Panaka dropped a hand onto the back of Ollie's chair. With a huff of agreement, the security captain leaned forward to get a better view of the scene outside the ship. What had started as a mere line of white over the horizon an hour ago, was now a vast wall of swirling black and brown, punching outwards at one-hundred feet tall. It grew in ferocity as sand was whipped upwards, consuming all before it in a tidal wave of aggression.

He'd never seen anything like it.

A warning beacon had pinged its way to the communications array an hour ago, the obligatory caution from the Tatooine authorities advising seeking shelter and sealing hatches. Panaka had sent word through the ship, watching as the repair team outside began to seal shut work on the front manifold and poor back in. The doors were to be secured just as the winds were picking up. Panaka himself was going to inform the Royal Party of the situation... just as the communications array pinged with a second message.

They hadn't been expecting the Jedi to call through.

Nor were they expecting them to be racing the storm front across the Wastes at such an hour.

" _They're crazy."_ Ollie had commented once the Jedi were off the line. "He may sound all princely and poised, but he's crazy. They both are."

"Keep an eye out for them here. I'll keep Jerope and Laudings posted in the cargo bay."

"Aye, will do."

And by the time he'd gotten a team ready with the hatch, and informed the handmaidens of the current situation (batting away Sabé's unspoken questions), the Jedi were still nowhere to be seen. Panaka grumbled again. Communications had fallen silent, even between the pilot and security captain in the cockpit, as they scoured the sea of sand and storm before them for any sight of the two Jedi.

Nothing.

The storm encroached ever-steadily closer.

"Where the Hell are they, dammit!" He balled a fist behind Ollie's headrest, pushing himself away from the scene before him. Oh, it was the last thing he needed — two dead Jedi, the Queen at the mercy of Tatooine's hive of villainy where he couldn't reach her, and the entirety of Naboo's fate riding on one dead Queen reaching Coruscant before the end of the week.

Eirtaé better dish out the painkillers after this.

"Even if they wanted to radio in, they couldn't," Ollie was broken off as a torrent of sand streamed against the transparisteel ports. _Here it comes._ "This would choke _anything_."

"Including _them_ , if they don't hurry up." He whirled around again, Ollie unsure if he'd heard the Captain's grumbling correctly (' _I'm gonna choke them if...'_ ). An alarm went off on a nearby panel. It thankfully stopped Panaka's mild fit of agitation, but it deepened both their brows. "Proximity alert. Ship wants to shut us down." Ollie tweaked the alarm off.

Panaka ground his jaw. "Not until those two are onboard." 

_"Sir? Any word on the Jedi?"_

The garbled comm from the cargo bay filled the eerie silence of the cockpit. Panaka heaved a sigh as the sunlight finally disappeared behind the wall of sand, and the ship and the landscape it sat in was swallowed by darkness. The fluorescent light cast strange shadows over the rise and falls of the cockpit. "No, Corporal. We'll wait it out — They have ten minutes before I'm officially recording the time of dea—"

"Look! _There!"_

Ollie's frantic pointing cut off the Captain's ill-timed joke, and the pilot directed him to a sight that both had him heaving a silent sigh of relief, and wanting to pinch the bridge of his nose. "What the hell is she doing?"

From behind the one remaining, visible sand dune, that girl came staggering. Stepping into the last ray of sunshine that sliced the blackened landscape, the Togruta fell and disappeared below the line of swarming sand. But as she emerged once more, defying wobbling legs and raucous heaves, she pulled something else out from the furious undercurrents. The mass of cloth proved too heavy, and the two men watched as all her efforts were defeated, the Jedi pulled back below the lapping waves of sand once more. From the distance still between them, a moment passed before Panaka could pin just what she'd tried to heave over her shoulder.

The blood was rushing to his nose now.

"Have Eirtaé on standby in medical, now!" Panaka was beyond the door before Ollie could voice his assent.

* * *

_"Ani, the back room!"_

_"Got it!"_

Another howl of wind. Another shutter pulled too with an immense display of strength from a nine-year-old. Padmé clipped the lock in place while Anakin held the panels together. A moment breathed past as both took a step back to admire their handiwork. Padmé's sigh was interrupted by another outraged gust, and before the worst could be dealt, Anakin dumped a spare part from his stock pile in front of the window.

"There. That should hold it."

Her nod began slowly, as if she wasn't entirely won-over with the promise of Threepio's spare-head holding the storm at bay. It was inevitable that Anakin would notice her unease, though; tiny brows turned upwards. "Don't worry. I sourced the durasteel from the best Watto had in his junkyard. It'll hold."

"Alright, Ani. If you say so."

_"Anakin."_

"Mom?"

Both occupants of the farthest room of the Skywalker residence ventured outwards. Within the common area, Shmi placed the last of the warmed bantha milk on the table and ushered the children over with an enthusiastic hand.

"Great! Thanks mom."

"You didn't need to, Ms Skywalker."

Padmé sat beside the boy, making room for Anakin's overzealous elbows as he dived for his share of the late-night treat. She caught the gentle turn of Master Jinn's expression as the boy helped himself.

"And however else am I going to get you two to sleep with this storm raging?"

Padmé took a sip as the older woman sat herself down. Something soft danced in her eyes, and Padmé couldn't refute her kindness, nor her logic.

"We should hope the race will still go ahead tomorrow, what with this storm." Qui-Gon began pleasant conversation, and Padmé had the sudden image of the man possibly kicking his boots up on the table. Instead, Shmi slid a glass over to the Jedi Master. A moment passed where the Queen actually doubted the Jedi would accept it, before he was unfolding himself and taking the warm milk with a smile.

"It should." Anakin wiped away the large residue of said milk from above his lips. "I've seen it before; the whole stand is coated in sand, the Frinback Canyon's collapsed, but they still go ahead."

"It's terribly dangerous." Shmi ran her thumb over her fingernails.

"It's terribly profitable." Padmé offered, and she earned a round of sympathising hums. And then, as if either agreeing with her point, or just to taunt her, the wind wracked against the fragile walls of the slave quarters. All eyes went to the door. From beyond the darkened alcove, the wind howled ominously — something inhuman that had Padmé biting her tongue.

"I hope they made it."

"I'm sure they will. They have the benefit of positioning — the ship is to the North-East, the storm came in from the South."

"I hope you're right." _For their sakes,_ was the unspoken part of her comment; Qui-Gon didn't need the Force to sense her unease. A silence settled on the table then, filled only with the occasional slurping of warm milk. Padmé hid her unwanted laughter in her cup as Anakin made a particularly obnoxious sound with his milk which she was sure he'd done on purpose. But whatever effect he so desired to create failed as Qui-Gon offered a tight-lipped smile.

"It would be best if you finished your milk and went to bed, Anakin. You have a long day ahead of you tomorrow."

"Yeah, yeah, I heard this bit. If I don't get enough sleep, then I'll—"

Anakin's grumbling seemingly drowned out.

There, within the small bubble of sanctuary they'd created, and just for a split second, Qui-Gon felt something. Like a brief pinch, the Living Force reared his head to the entrance. The blackened door rattled with a menacing vengeance, as if requesting entrance had culminated into attempting a violent home-invasion. Unfortunately, it wasn't long at all before the pinch had turned into a foul burn, and it was the final piece that stunk of something _wrong_.

" _Ana—"_

Both the boy and the Jedi Master were struck silent, as a nearby window burst open. Padmé's hands flew to her face, Anakin diving away from the table as the window swung open and shuttered against the crumbling mortar. But lightning-fast reflexes saw the wooden panels slam shut, silencing the uninvited storm howling through the room.

Now able to peer past her shaking hands, Padmé settled herself as Master Jinn narrowed his eyes to the offending window. His hand remained outstretched.

"Anakin. The lock is broken." he said.

"I'll get something to buffer it with." she offered, and once she'd sorted through the mess of Anakin Skywalker's room for something suitable to jam in place, she'd passed the item to said boy's awaiting hands back within the common area. They all waited on bated breath as Anakin tried to jam the panels. The boy huffed.

"Urgh. I'm gonna need to pull the shutters the other way. You're gonna have to let go, Master Qui-Gon."

Hesitantly, the Jedi Master did just that, and all present shielded their eyes from any wayward sand as Anakin threw open the shutters.

Qui-Gon's frown worsened as the wail failed to die down, and sand now coated every inch of his hair.

"Anakin! What's wrong!"

"Mister Qui-Gon! There's someone out there!"

_What?_

That sent him into action. With no heed for the gale force winds, and as though he'd neglected the existence of the razor-sharp shards, Qui-Gon scooped the boy up and away from the window. "Get away, now."

The Living Force was railing.

"No! They're… they're hurt! _Look!"_

_"He's right!_ " Qui-Gon could barely make the Queen out beside him, but the girl had somehow grappled to his side, and her arm was hanging out the tiny window in the storm. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Qui-Gon added another grovel about foolish children to the growing list (where his apprentice reigned supreme), before placing Anakin to the ground. Shmi came and swept both the Queen and her son away, shielding their eyes from the sand as Qui-Gon stretched with the Force.

And there.

Just there.

A figure lay prone on the upheaving sand, the only distinguishing indication between storm and ground.

_Blast._

* * *

A giant monster moved through their doorway, but as the sand was shaken away, Anakin could finally decipher chestnut hair blasted backwards, from sand-coated poncho. The door swung shut behind him, and Master Qui-Gon powered through the common area until he found the sofa.

Shmi pulled away the hood from their untimely visitor, briefly revealing a mess of white, wiry hair and shrivelled skin before she had her ear flat against the stranger's withered lips. A dangerous frown loomed on his mother, before she was pushing away.

"She's still breathing, a heartbeat too. Ani? The old respirator from under my workbench."

"Ah-hu. Gotcha."

"Do you know who she is?" Padmé asked, coming to hover behind the older woman.

"No. But she's hurt."

And so started a chain of events, where the last of the day's water rations, already fearfully low, were administered to the stranger. Eventually, when all that could be done was said and done, Anakin and Padmé were shooed to bed, Master Qui-Gon promising to keep watch over the strange woman during the night.

"May the Gods shine kindly upon us."

Both knew that her statement wasn't enough to mitigate their predicament. Shmi caught the anxious edge in the Master Jedi's eye, an observation that sat sourly in her stomach. The usual stoicism had faltered, and it left a bitter taste curdling in her mouth. It was poor timing, but what could they have done? Leaving the poor woman in the storm just hadn't been an option. She somehow doubted Master Jinn was getting any sleep tonight. She somehow doubted _she_ would get any sleep tonight.

* * *

... Cruelly, Shmi's forecasts were frightfully prophetic. The eighteen hours of sunlight had been shortened to twelve as the storm consumed Mos Espa and the Wastes. No one was destined for a restful night's sleep, not as a half-hour after sending Anakin to bed, was Master Qui-Gon thrown up out of his meditation by a painful shriek from the Living Force. A creature had come to prey on their kindness, having rolled in with the storm. An angry, burning red ignited across his vision. The familiar, strangely comforting sound of a lightsaber was somehow corrupted by the unsavoury colour before him. But he had no time to summon the 'saber at his belt before everything went a blinding white.

' _The Chosen One!'_

_'Anakin!'_

_' Master!'_

The litany of intrusive, unfamiliar voices silenced, he barely caught a glimpse of the panicked pallor of Shmi Skywalker retreating behind a corner before all swirled into an empty oblivion.


	20. Doctor's Orders

Of all the things he thought he'd be doing once they'd hauled the two Jedi back into the safety of the cruiser, feeling sympathy for their mysterious charge was the last thing. All his instincts railed against him. But as Panaka set her down in the cargo bay, Jerope and Laudings collapsing as the last streams of sand licked up their backs — he forced himself to silence his better judgements at the sight of her cracked lips and laboured, shallow breaths.

Well, at least she was still conscious.

Her companion, however...

Once he and his two corporals had fitted the modified rebreathers, setting out into the last moments before the storm hit was the easy part. Standing at world's end, waiting for the inevitable while the winds swelled, that was the eerie part. The storm consumed the last known location of the Jedi and the cruiser, battering them over with a razor-sharp gust. They didn't have long — the rebreathers weren't designed to withstand long periods of time in a storm of this magnitude.

As they inched closer, one of his corporals sighted her. Tano was the sole figure standing on the dune, a strange image of solitude and silence — _stillness_ — as the world heaved around her in a malicious storm of violence. Below her, unmoving and barely peeking above the underswell of sand, was that dark mound.

Panaka had wanted to rage at her then and there (' _Stupid girl! You don't stand in a sand storm!'_ ), but as they reached her, Jerope and Laudings turned the mound over to reveal Kenobi past the torrential sand and Panaka understood her reasoning. A small pocket of air could be afforded if you tucked your head beneath your body... but Tano wasn't looking for a short term answer. His two corporals hauled Kenobi up, securing a rebreather over his face. Panaka prayed they weren't too late and encouraged Tano with her own rebreather — she didn't budge. He put an arm to her. She was as solid as stone; he couldn't shift her any which way. Determination had seen her withstand the storm for this long — so steadfast was her willpower, her boots had welded to the moving floor of sand. Glassed-over eyes defied the storm, staring into unseen places.

He wasn't sure how Laudings and Jerope had managed to carry Kenobi through the storm. He had trouble holding himself up, let alone carry the Tano girl back to the cruiser. But nonetheless, they found the ramp. Panaka never thought he'd hear a sweeter sound than the door sealing shut behind him, and he'd heard his little one's first breaths.

"He's not breathing! Gods, get him up."

With the settling sand crunching underfoot, an army of bystanders descended with the last scraps of medical equipment on board. Redirecting their attentions found Kenobi carried off to Medical, and Tano limping pathetically along behind. A handmaiden swabbed gently at her forehead as they disappeared around a corner.

"Captain, that was impressive."

"Don't congratulate me until they've got Kenobi resuscitated."

* * *

 _"No, don't. If he's got sand in the lungs, we'll need to flush it out. I can't perform a bronchoscopy here…_ Alright _. We'll do it the old way. Yané? I'll need you to hold his head still. Prepare for him to jump — his central nervous system's gonna be shot."_

_"Okay."_

_…_

_"He's still not breathing. Jerope! Get me twenty cc's of cortisone, stat."_

_…_

_"Where the hell is the sedative?"_

_"I can't find it!"_

The pounding in her head summoned her back to the world around her. Blinking against the harsh light brought the space around her into poor definition. The pain slapping up her limbs kept her from moving more than a few inches at a time, but Ahsoka struggled to take in her surroundings. Two individuals flushed in burning colours moved against the scene of brilliant white before her. She wasn't sure if she could just make out a darker figure moving to bellowing orders.

What? Where—

The storm.

…

_Obi-Wan._

"No, stay." A hand snatched her wrist, pulling her back onto the makeshift gurney she nearly toppled off. "He'll be okay. You need to rest."

Panicked blue darted to a soft green.

"Is he —"

"He swallowed a lot of sand, but he's in good hands."

The pounding in her head grew tenfold. Both hands seized her montrals, the pain refusing to die down. Blinding light wouldn't dull as she squeezed her eyes shut. To the concerned hands and gentle enquiries now at her shoulder, Ahsoka shook her head. A lungful of air hissed past cracked lips. "Tell them… tell them it's not just the sand. He won't respond — he won't respond to normal stimuli. _Tell them._ " Something swirled ominously in the Force before her, corrupting the gentle swell and fall. This wasn't just the storm; this was something else.

With one final shake to the handmaiden's arms, Ahsoka released the girl with rigid fingers. Her reluctance was momentary, before the woman was away. The Force rallied at her, a crippling darkness — _blankness_ — stretching from the gurney the Nubians crowded around. Darkness?

There had been a brief flicker.

She'd just batted away another sarcastic comment from the younger Kenobi before the desert began to swim. The last sun was a rapidly descending orb, threatening to leave them in darkness as the storm finally swallowed Mos Espa behind them. The last three kilometres and a half had been a mad sprint to the cruiser. It was a race she was familiar with, what with the amount of running and escaping mandatory for survival throughout the Clone Wars. She'd discarded her poncho, Obi-Wan doing the same as his tunics began to weigh him down. They'd paused for breath, him passing comment on perhaps timing their own speed across the Wastes. It was then that she felt it.

She saw it first.

The flicker in his eye, as though something in the distance had reflected against the glassy grey.

Then came the monstrous gust, barrelling into them with the strength, magnitude and roar of a freight train powering across the gloomy landscape.

There was a strangled cry, a horrible, guttural mix between a sob and yelp; she couldn't tell which of them had made it.

But then she was left staring at Obi-Wan Kenobi in the sand at her feet. The wind rifled through his tunics and sent his padawan braid skittering over his shoulder.

_Oh no._

Ahsoka gave a shudder at the all-too-real memory. The fraying edges of his aura had ceased to be, and she wasn't ashamed of the choke of panic she gave as she fell beside him. After the ten seconds of pounding blood and grovelling through the Force, Ahsoka had him slung over her shoulder.

A small beacon of Light from ahead gave her bearing — she wasn't sure if it were the cruiser or not, but whatever it was, was surely some sort of salvation. It wasn't long before the storm was at their heels. The sunlight was almost gone as a thunderous wall of sand belittled the Jedi padawans beneath. The storm was just as heavy to her as Master Kenobi's weight was slung over her shoulders.

She couldn't remember much after that. She remembered meeting the sand, her fall cushioned by something unforgivably soft...

Her next memories were of harsh lights and panicked voices. A gentle face saw her to her feet, and then…

Here. Now.

...

What in the Force was happening?

A week ago she was hiding in the shadows of Coruscant's underground, her own Master pursuing her through the crowded streets.

A week ago, she'd folded her beads into his palm and bid him farewell.

A week ago, she woke to Naboo. A week ago was thirteen years to come.

She'd seen the Sith victorious. She'd seen Anakin collapse at the foot of evil. She'd seen the Temple ransacked; _purged;_ and she had escaped to Naboo, hidden in the past. It was unfair, she should have the upper hand. She should _know,_ hindsight now fought from her corner.

 _The Galaxy is a cruel place, my little padawan._ A sky of blue framed a kindly smile and unruly hair. _We can't predict what it'll throw at us... But we try, all the same._

She'd been foolish enough, _arrogant_ enough to point out his mistake with memorised words. _But what of, 'there is no try', Master?_

 _They are words that stretch from a time before these wars, Snips. We will lose people and worlds, but what would we lose if we do not_ try?

A sandy tear wet her cheek. A casual hand came up to smooth it away. The medical bay beeped quietly around her, and it was only then did that she notice all had gone quiet at the gurney.

* * *

"Captain Panaka said he couldn't move you when he found you."

From the stool to her left, Eirtaé glanced her way. Ahsoka saw the quiet scrutiny on the handmaiden-turned-doctor in the dimmed lights. The fluorescent display of Kenobi's bio-readouts pulsed placidly against Ahsoka's face, and she gave a half-shrug.

"In all honesty, I don't remember. _I remember the sand_ ," she held her tongue against the back of her teeth. Then her disheartened shrug left her shaking a dismal head. "But that's about it."

"You saved his life. If you'd been out there a moment longer, he would have died of acute asphyxiation. As it was, I pronounced him clinically dead when he arrived."

Ahsoka passed a hand along the bacta patch over her shoulder. The steady beeps sounding out Obi-Wan's heartbeat flooded the silence then, and she sighed. A smile turned the corners of her lips, but failed to meet the eyes.

"You worked wonders, Doctor."

 _That, I did._ Eirtaé dabbed the corners of another burn along Kenobi's fingers. A royal cruiser was sorely unequipped to handle sand asphyxiation. Planetside, it would be a simple case of placing a bronchostat over him and waiting for it to take its course. But here? She'd been plunged back six-thousand years of medical science. Manual ventilation tubes could be sourced from spare equipment and swamped in bacta. Cortisone would stop inflammation, and sedative would ease the pain. After that, Kenobi badly needed a good night's rest before she would even consider letting him go.

Another finger, another swab of bacta. "You, hon, are lucky to be alive. No rebreather in a storm like that? Rule of thumb, tu—"

"I know, tuck your head beneath your body and pray for salvation."

A hum of agreement came from the good doctor at the head of the table. "He's going to need a proper medical when we reach Coruscant, _you both are,_ but for the time being…" The cotton swab was put to one side, the sterile tang of bacta assaulting her nose. It was a smell Ahsoka was all too familiar with, and she had the scars to prove it. "No longterm damage. Any residual sand is almost out of his lungs. He'll be dribbling up a lot of saliva for the next few hours, but that's completely normal. Expect a lot of coughing — if it's blood, comm me."

She stopped then, casting an eye to Ahsoka. Eirtaé made some sound in the back of her throat at the sight of the poor girl almost on the gurney beside the young man. "He'll be right as rain in a few hours. But I will be suggesting nothing too strenuous for a while. He needs time to recoup."

Eirtaé dipped a hand to the controls of the bioreadouts, and thumbed a button. Ahsoka flinched when the display disappeared, the steady line and beep of Obi-Wan's heartbeat taken with it. Eiraté watched her with a pacifying smile.

"He doesn't need visual monitoring. The system will log anything seriously wrong."

"Thanks, Doc."

"Eirtaé." The handmaiden lost her mask of anonymity as she gave Ahsoka her name. Ahsoka smiled as Eirtaé stood from the stool, her back cracking in several different places as she did so. "I'm not a doctor. Well, not in my current capacity. Just a handmaiden." she said, managing around a yawn.

"You could have fooled me."

 _"Ha._ Listen, the sedative he's under will be out of his system soon. Then he'll be sleeping on his own."

"Got it."

"And one last thing, doctor's orders. Get some sleep."

She couldn't quite stop the amused turn of her lips. "Do I really look that bad?"

At the arched brow she received from the medic's station, Ahsoka pressed her lips together. Eirtaé crossed her arms. "Let's say, you look like you've just gone head to head with a rancor, and guess who came out on top?"

Blue eyes rolled in the dim lighting. "Thanks."

"Keep him here, Ahsoka." The stern tone of authority was back in her voice now. A light was palmed off by the door. "I want the system to monitor him for at least tonight. If there are no abnormalities, I'll discharge him."

Stretching her legs before her, Ahsoka yawned. "Ooh, he's not going to like that, I don't think."

"He's one of _those_ , is he? Well then. As his attending physician, I give you permission to demonstrate whatever force is necessary to keep him here."

An exhausted chuckle filled the space between the two. "I'll do my best, Doc."


	21. Meaningful Exchanges

He wasn't sure if it was the howling wind, or the beating headache that hammered him back into reality. But either way, all he was really aware of was the raging storm outside (sounding like a horde of gundarks against the hull), the thrumming that had brought him out of sweet, blissful unconsciousness… and the abnormal amount of saliva in his mouth.

Kenobi hoicked the mess to his left as soon as he felt the oozing substance begin to slip down airways. _Disgusting._ Bringing himself somewhat upright, the space around him began to swim with colours, until he could make out surfaces and a doorway.

He blinked.

The horrid taste of sand (how does one come to _know_ what sand tastes like?) lined his mouth.

The room was awash with sombre colours, the only warmth provided by the dusky orange hue of the wall lights. It took him a moment before he realised where he was, and why he was hooked up to medical.

_The storm._

When had they made it? Try as he might, he just couldn't recall—

_Ahsoka._

Her face was the last thing he could recall before the burning flare, and inevitable black. They'd been racing across the Wastes. She'd wanted to stop—

The pounding in his head wouldn't leave him alone, and after a few involuntary jerks of pain, Kenobi resigned himself to dipping into the Force. The cool waves rushed over him, benevolent and soothing as they met the trembling edges of his headache.

However, the minor stretch into the Force had further repercussions, and Obi-Wan was finally left staring at the only other occupant of the room. Folded precariously upon a (what had to be) pilfered chair, Ahsoka Tano quietly snored into the fold of her arm. She gave a mild start which left her arms tightening further around herself, before she'd nestled her montrals back against the sides of the out-of-place seat with a content sigh.

He exhaled a lungful of air he wasn't aware he'd been holding. The Force again slid peacefully into its untroubled lull, eddying quietly between the two force-sensitives.

A hand came up to rifle through the hair at the nape of his neck, fingers snagging as they ran down the length of his tied-back hair. _Lovely._ For once, he imagined, he knew what it was like to be Ahsoka Tano, waking up in a strange place with no explanation as to _how_ she'd wound up there. Because the backdrop of the desolate Wastes of Tatooine was what he had been expecting to wake too. After all, that was where his memory stopped and should have started — a poor pun, Ahsoka rolling her eyes through laboured breaths, and that storm ever-so-close on their heels.

A brilliant flash of white, a strangled scream… and then darkness.

With a heavy thunk, his head connected with the cushioned gurney behind him. Alright, so perhaps not so cushioned. _Blast._

"Hey, Mister. Don't quote me on this, but I think we incited Captain Panaka's irritable headache."

Her voice floated from the gloom beside him, garbled by sleep and exhaustion. Obi-Wan sighed. "Did you look at him the wrong way?"

The sound of shifting cloth and cracking limbs came from his right then, and he hazarded a look to the stretching padawan. He hadn't meant to disturb her.

"No. I think maybe my getting lost in a sandstorm, while lugging your unconscious body back may have angered him. He had to come and rescue us."

 _Oh._ And there was the much needed explanation that he'd been waiting for. Truthfully, that wasn't far from what he'd been expecting. Guilt bit away at him then, as he took in the bacta patch on her shoulder, and sand-white garments. A hand came up to rub away the grogginess from his face, battling fatigue and finding the fiendish grains at his cheeks.

"Well, thank the Force that he did." He began to sit up, seething at the screaming muscles and unsteady limbs. "Judging by the taste in my mouth, I don't think my lungs could have withstood another helping of sand."

And perhaps the universe just wanted to prove a point, because as he settled, hearing the disks in his back crack, the coughing started. A raucous wave of wheezes and hacking, a hand flew to his mouth to stop anything untoward from flying forward. " _Force._ " His voice was grated by what could only be described as sandpaper. "Did I swallow the entire desert? _Blast._ " Another cough. Another lurch. With an empathetic smile, Ahsoka sat forward till her elbows dug into her knees.

"Close, but just short. You know, if you hadn't chosen that exact moment to topple on me, then we would have made it safe and sound."

Between the coughing, and off-putting amounts of saliva, Obi-Wan managed a laugh. Ahsoka joined, but she was cut off as his laughter inevitably turned sour. She counted another four violent jerks before she began to worry at her lip.

Concern now spurring her on, she inched forwards once more. A hand reached across the space between them… until she was paused, almost tipping at the edge of her lavish seat. Long fingers hung in the air above his shoulder, lingering as her mind caught up with her actions. Only now did she finally see the fair expanse of toned muscles and freckles dusted across supple shoulders.

She blinked, and instead found herself passing a cup of water she'd poured earlier for him — incase this happened. Him, waking up in the night, of course. Not… her panicking over…

Yeah.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Ahsoka allowed herself a moment to watch him drink, hoping the water would fend off the remaining sand… for the time being, at least. When the glass was drained, it exchanged hands and Ahsoka took care to align said glass with its watermark upon the gurney's side-table. And when he watched her with restless eyes, she drew her knees to her chest. She told herself it was because of the settling cold, not because she now craved some sort of distance between them. She would have had the exact same reaction to Anakin, shirtless and suddenly staggeringly vulnerable.

Her stomach became tight at the sight of Obi-Wan Kenobi holding his head in his hands. Markings creased upwards, and soft eyes watched him. The sudden, unwanted image came to her, of him lifeless upon the sandy plains, and her helpless above him. "What was it?"

"I have no idea. But there is something wrong. Something I can't… I can't explain."

No words like _elusive_ or _elsewhere_ or _enigma._ No usual clever quip or observance to answer her question. Just a poor image of Obi-Wan Kenobi hunched over on a gurney, prying bandaged hands away from his temples.

"I felt it too," she tried not to whisper, but she couldn't bring herself to break the heavy silence that the moment demanded. Yet the sheer look of _lost_ that paled the familiar colour of Obi-Wan's cheeks begged her for some sort of assurance. Finally, her hand dared the distance and slipped onto his forearm. Picking her emotions carefully, Ahsoka offered herself as a safeguard past her tumbling shields. She paid little heed to the tightening muscles beneath her fingers.

Grey eyes seemed to flicker at her in the gloom.

"It was Qui-Gon." His quiet words were strangled in the space between. Something intense built under the palm at his wrist, and she didn't know what to make of the chill that was racing through her bones. "I can't sense him, even if I—"

No!

 _Force_ no.

... was it too late?

Panic molested her, a bout of turbulent nausea assaulting her very being.

He wasn't— He can't die here. _He can't._ A hand fled to her middle, and she tried to disguise her sudden jolt by smoothing the fabric there. But of course, Obi-Wan being who he was… Discerning eyes cast to her incriminating hand. Force, even she knew it was feeble. Those brows furrowed further in confusion before his gaze met hers again, almost challenging.

"Ahsoka? Are you—"

" _Yeah._ Yes, I'm fine."

For a moment, her grandmaster's mouth hung open in muted question; until she found him blinking away. The frown still hadn't disappeared from between his brows though, but she'd give him a moment to collect his thoughts. Force knew she needed a moment to collect hers, because they were coming much too fast and strong now. She wasn't aware her shields were up until she felt the fortified Separatist base pulsing around her, the same angry red.

Darth Maul.

The Sith.

The future had come early.

 _Oh Force…_ _Anakin._

_I shouldn't have left them._

"Do you—" Painfully quiet, Obi-Wan's voice called her away from her panic. And when she met those eyes... _Oh no._ Her heart plummeted to the floor of her pelvis, beating to the pounding rhythm of a battalion of charging men. _Please don't ask this._ But it was, of course, a useless hope. Again she was reminded of who exactly she was sharing sterilised air with. "You know what it is, don't you."

…

A frenzied flash of red and black. Snarling teeth; blurring sabers; quick hands _not_ quick enough; a wall of red; booted feet skidding to a stop… A desperate plea never to be answered… _Please._

"I— "

The world before her shifted again, and now Tatooine stretched far before her. A lone, hooded figure sat silently on an a swelling of rocks. Gone was the Dathomirian, instead gentle curves peered passed heavy robes. Yellow eyes shot in her direction.

…

Ahsoka didn't know she was shaking her head until she could see _defeat_ staring back at her from those yellow eyes flickering grey. 

_"I can't answer that anymore."_ she croaked.

"What do you mean?"

When she was back aboard the Nubian cruiser, safely hidden by bulkheads, outer hulls and the night, she merely returned his gaze and watched as he hung his head. Ahsoka swallowed, worried when she took in the same flickering defeat in his hung head, that bore into from her across the sands.

The darkness seemed to meet them at their edges then, the unnatural howl of the storm growing from the shadows around them. Darth Maul's vicious display of rage, Anakin's — _Vader's_ — yellow eyes… they now burned alongside a complete strangers, and she had no idea what it all meant. So she gave Master Obi-Wan the only surety she could muster. "It means exactly that. I _don't know_ anymore." No one said anything about it being positive.

"I have a bad feeling about this." Obi-Wan muttered, and she barely heard it over the storm.

"You and me both, Master."

At least they could share a smile.

... She forced herself to overlook the faint dip at the corners of his already strained grin.

"Normally, I'd suggest we'd go back right now no matter what, but there's a hundred foot wall of sand storm between us and them, you've just been announced clinically _un_ dead, and—" Ahsoka yawned, cutting off anything else that could possibly have been said.

A brow arched her way. " _And_ someone needs to sleep."

"We _both_ need to sleep." She rubbed the palm of her hand over her burning eyes.

"How much caf are you running on right now?" Obi-Wan quipped.

"How much caf _aren't_ I running on, you mean?"

A smooth line of unorthodox, sand-coated Jedi garb and Togruta, she was away from the chair. Kenobi watched as she came to a pause beside his gurney, pressing a hand to her waist through a seethe. "For Force sakes. Never be deceived by seemingly comfy-looking chairs. They lure you in and wait."

He gave a soft snort, before he allowed himself to stretch flat against the gurney once more. A hand came up to attempt battle with the fatigue setting in.

She didn't know. How could she not know? In all his eleven years as a Jedi Padawan, he'd never experienced such volatile bouts of what he could only describe as _confusion_ from the Force. They took shape and wild flight in fortified blasts that cost them consciousness for indeterminate amounts of time… And now it seemed it was Qui-Gon's turn. He'd never felt such an impassive blankness from him. Never. Try as he might to tap along their bond, there was only silence. No, not just that… complete blankness. _He can't be de—_ _No, pull yourself together, Kenobi._ Somehow, there was comfort to be found in Ahsoka's internalised mulling and brooding… if she had begun to tread on eggshells, then he would grant himself the frowned-upon indulgence of panic.

"Kriff… What is that?"

_Huh?_

Turning his head gave him a lopsided view of said girl. Somehow, she'd wound up on his left, and wore the most illustrative expression of repugnance he'd ever seen. It took him a few moments, and a few puzzling dead ends, before he had the answer to her sudden repulsion.

_Oh._

"That is unfortunately evidence of the human respiratory and nervous system at its finest." He grimaced, and shot her an apologetic look.

"Oh. _Ew."_

"I'm sorry."

Obi-Wan kneaded the ache in his shoulder as she strode to the medical cabinet. When she returned, a swathe of heavy fabric unrolled before her. "Well, better that than you drowning in your own saliva, I suppose."

"Yes. I must say… that'd be quite the way to go. I can just see Master Qui-Gon attempting an explanation to the Council now. ' _Obi-Wan Kenobi unfortunately, and pathetically_ drowned _in his own saliva._ '"

"Here."

At the newly revealed blanket being dumped in his lap, Kenobi frowned. "What's this for?"

"Usually we use it to keep ourselves warm." With little heed paid to her sarcasm, he narrowed eyes at her. Ahsoka drew in a long breath at the familiar sight. "Because you're staying." Those eyes merely narrowed further. "Doctors orders. I'm to keep watch over you."

When he offered her nothing else, except a startling show of defiance by pulling back the bundle of blanket in his lap and pushing boots over the elevated lip of the gurney, it was Ahsoka's turn to narrow eyes. Strangely, it came across as a very Skywalker-flouts-the-rules thing to do. Well, if ever she had trouble envisioning Master Kenobi turning a blind eye to the establishment… "I've also been ordered to demonstrate necessary force if need be. However, I have no desire to restrain the temporary cripple, so if you please."

"…Temporary cripple?"

Ahsoka sunk into the chair once more with a huff. "Be quiet and go to sleep. We've gotta long hike back to Mos Espa tomorrow. Anakin's got that—" _Anakin._

The name slapped her across the face, delivering the same acrid punch that Barriss' fist had a week ago. Anakin. She'd left Anakin in the care of Master Jinn… Who'd gone as quiet as the grave. She'd be lying if she said wasn't worried sick... It was just the novelty of and panic driven by the situation that rendered her strangely speechless.

"Ahsoka?"

"I'm alright." When she lifted her head to his, she set her jaw. "First thing tomorrow morning, we have to go back."

"I couldn't agree more."

And when the blanket had finally (begrudgingly) been pulled too, Obi-Wan settled back. The quiet shifting of Ahsoka folding into herself filled the silence, and then the room was left with only the demonic swirling and howling as the storm vied to burry the cruiser in the desert. Obi-Wan just hoped they'd be able to open the cargo bay doors come tomorrow morning.

* * *

" _Ahsoka!"_ He slipped in the burning sand, boots sliding out from beneath him. " _No! Qui-Gon! MOM!"_ But the hand at his chest never relented — while the boy twisted and squirmed as if his very life depended on it, the figure that held him remained a formidable glacier carving through the sand.

A lightsaber skittered underfoot. Flat on the ground, a hand, once lifeless, _twitched_.

Anakin's head snapped sideways, but his small spark of hope was destroyed when the lightsaber sprung to life and sliced the stirring limb from its owner with a sickening dispassion. Anakin's eyes burst wide, and what little control he had shattered — the tears poured down red, swollen cheeks. The lightsaber — _Obi-Wan's_ — flew across the space and was latched to a foreign belt. A robe fell around sharp hips, the boy's wails now agonising.

...

The day became night, too many times to count, as seasons came and went and colossal mountains of sand burst upwards across the never-ending plains. As darkness finally prevailed, the night brought a bone-chilling cold. Speckled lights lit up the the strange sand-formations... and Coruscant stretched before her, in all its nightly glory.

A lone balcony on a building Ahsoka struggled to place swirled into view, and two hooded figures stood observing, _preying_ on the nightly flow of traffic. The Force swelled upwards in darkness, and the two silhouettes turned. From her distant view, she placed a third figure released from the shadows of a far-off corner. Those concealing robes, that feminine air... Distrust and malice washed the Force, before the figure collapsed to yielding knees before the blackened pair.

A hideous smile flashed beneath a shadowed cowl.

* * *

"No!" The guttural sound tore from her throat, a hand grasping madly for the expanse of her neck. The familiar feel of the material and silver band there encouraged calm. A few measured, delirium-shattering breaths saw the tension flood from her muscles, and brought her back from Coruscant and that quiet, swirling sand.

"Ahsoka."

A hand was at her wrist, pulling shaking fingers away from a pounding heartbeat, before she could raise her head to who had just called her. Obi-Wan Kenobi's gaze bore into her, and she blinked at the uncertain intensity flashing in his eyes. "I— I'm alright." She didn't even manage to convince herself. But that hand at her wrist let go, and she blinked at the gentle slip of calloused fingers against the exposed skin there. She'd seen that hand severed, fingers uncurling in the sand at the horrific, cold-blooded dismemberment.

"Come on. It's 0700. I have no doubt whatever physician is onboard will want to sneak in at any moment."

She let a smile slip cross her lips, but it never touched her distant eyes. "Worried they'll try and detain you?"

Detain. _Anakin._

"Obi-Wan. We need to leave. _Now._ "

"What is it?" His frown matched the sudden gravity of her tone, and took away that gentle humour.

"It's Anakin."


	22. Panicked Promises

They found Qui-Gon lying in a heap by the sofa.

She'd never seen Master Kenobi move so fast in her life, and she'd stood upon that doomed station on Mustafar as her grandmaster. Helping to sweep mountains of sand from Master Jinn's solid form, Ahsoka watched as seemingly steady fingers fumbled for a pulse. And on bated breath, she waited for the padawan across from her to confirm a faint heartbeat, _anything_. The man was silent, as if his very presence had been erased from the Force and existence itself. If he were dead (Force forbid), they would at least be left with a faint echo of him within these walls… but there was nothing. If Ahsoka was not staring at the lofty Jedi Master cradled in his padawan's arms, she wouldn't have believed he was there. But nevertheless, there he was, and a poorly masked sigh from Obi-Wan confirmed a heart beat.

_Force._ She felt a wave of relief pulse between herself and Obi-Wan; she wasn't sure which of them had generated it. And when she reached across the confined space to confirm the dull thuds herself, she almost laughed as the Force lapped warmly against her. A faint glimmer of the man who was spilling sand onto them both pulsed at her fingers.

Smelling salts extracted from the depths of Obi-Wan's utility belt wafted momentarily beneath the Master's colossal nose, before Qui-Gon was a haphazard blur of sand-blasted tunic, chestnut hair and beard.

" _What in the blazes—"_

"Master Qui-Gon." Obi-Wan took his master's weight, shifting a knee forward to brace him against. "Easy, Master. You're alright."

Qui-Gon blinked bleary, brown eyes at the two anxious faces before him. Immediately stretching out into the Living Force, craving its familiar touch, the wave of relief from those two faces came crashing down upon him. The Force now flooded his every sense like a cool breeze or an old friend, removing a great weight from his shoulders... Until Qui-Gon realised it wasn't his shoulders the anvil had been lifted from. He drew in a breath, then heaved a sigh. "Obi-Wan."

"Here, Master."

_So am I._

"Are you alright?" Ahsoka's hand came to rest upon his shoulder, and at the blatant concern in her eyes, Qui-Gon offered her a brief smile. His hand positively dwarfed hers as he covered it over.

"That remains to be seen, Padawan. However," his eyes darkened, darting to the sleeping quarters just beyond. "The others."

And while Obi-Wan helped his Master to his feet, sure to ask a million questions (Qui-Gon resisted rolling his eyes at the mental image of the 14-year-old boy), Ahsoka was away to the sleeping quarters. Where she had feared seeing Anakin crumpled in a lifeless heap (that same worry seeing her tiring out Obi-Wan over the Wastes), finding Qui-Gon alive and seemingly unharmed put her hammering heart at some ease.

But still, that vision.

Their mad dash across the Wastes had given her plenty of time to run through the distressing images of Anakin being carried off. Eventually, she was left watching a holo on repeat, showcasing her master's terrified face and nothing else. Oh, and then there was the matter of Obi-Wan's hand, twitching softly at the lack of response along severed nerves, bones and tendons. The lack of oxygen journeying to her brain left her unable to ponder on anything else — she hadn't realised she was projecting her apprehension until she felt Obi-Wan's eyes boring into her. She didn't want to stop, but his constant, confused glare slowed her throbbing feet.

He said nothing at first, but she caught that subtle, narrowed-eyed look she'd seen plenty of times before. Master Obi-Wan usually wore it when he'd rather not voice his confusion, and entice either Anakin's teasing or panic. Ahsoka came to the conclusion that it was a remaining sliver of distrust that kept him from voicing his concerns now, and something slid around her heart… until realisation sent her head to her hands.

_Great._

" _Oh boy_... You saw it too, didn't you." she'd moaned.

Obi-Wan had frowned back towards the cruiser, nervous eyes then darting back to her. "I wasn't sure if you had as well, but now,"

They just didn't have time to discuss it. Not then and there. Shared visions was a topic that would have to wait until they had ensured everyone was still breathing back in Mos Espa. But at least it explained why he hadn't probed her for skipping breakfast and putting them on this insane sprint back to the space port. Then again, his Master had disappeared from the Force, so perhaps Obi-Wan was more than happy to skip the burnt toast and cold tea. She knew if Anakin had suddenly blinked out with enough strength to knock her over…

Again, Ahsoka found herself muttering a muted curse at herself. She never should have been stupid enough to leave them. She never should have ignored the visions and the Living Force.

What was it that Master Qui-Gon had told her back onboard the cruiser?

A sudden mouthful of sand rocked Ahsoka from the Wastes and her thoughts.

_Force, what?_

It took her a moment before she could place just what had delivered her facedown on the floor. Master Qui-Gon's teachings proven practical once more, Ahsoka grumbled another profanity to what had snagged her boot. She suspected it was more than likely something from Anakin's horde of mechanical junk, or perhaps a mislaid piece of furniture… until she placed the curved dips of brown fabric to Anakin's mother.

_Sithspits._

A wave of concerned hands and rumpled fabric, she turned the older woman over. And while the Force may not have twisted through her fingers the same way it did with Qui-Gon, she could still feel the heartbeat steady beneath her probing fingertips.

_"Thank you."_

Obi-Wan's bottle of Jedi-issue smelling salts brought Shmi Skywalker leaping back into the world of the living. And as feverish eyes brought a hallway and three Jedi into view, " _Ahsoka,"_ croaked past parched lips.

"You're okay, Shmi. Just breathe. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan are here too."

" _Qui-Gon_ ," A weak hand grappled into blank space, a blind bid to summon the Jedi Master. "— _Ani._ He's with— He's in—"

"Hush, Ms Skywalker." Obi-Wan lurched forward to support the woman as Ahsoka practically threw her aside in an effort to get up from the floor. "I'm sure Anakin will be fine."

And as Qui-Gon rose from the sand-covered tiling, he didn't fail to register the wavering note in Obi-Wan's resolve, nor did he fail to take in the apprehensive frown on his padawan's face. The troubled glare Obi-Wan threw the rounded doorway sealed the deal in Qui-Gon's mind. Something more kept Obi-Wan's anxieties directed towards the crumbling archway to Anakin's room, but Qui-Gon didn't have time to dwell on it.

He found Ahsoka hunched by Anakin's bed, a hand running down the expanse of the Queen's crumpled body. He felt the Force surge at the call, examining the young girl as tasked, before Ahsoka's relief swelled. He offered a hasty thank you to—

... Anakin laid upon the bed.

Qui-Gon blinked, finding himself asking why he hadn't seen the boy. A towering mountain of Jedi Master tore across the room. " _Anakin."_

Ahsoka side-stepped the master's gigantic strides, barely out of the way before Qui-Gon slammed into the front of the boy's bed. Enormous hands ran down her master's plump cheeks. "Anakin." The boy refused to wake, and even though they hadn't turned to smelling-salts yet, she could still feel the Force rolling in a stomach-churning note of bitter finality. A sickening dread came at the sight of his lifeless face.

...

_Force_.

No, _please._ No, not here. Not... Not after everything.

A vexed huff from Master Qui-Gon saw the long sleeves of his robe jostled back before firm fingers were pressing to Anakin's neck.

Her heart had made it to her throat. The blood was pounding behind her eyes.

...

"I can't feel a pulse."

_No._

_~ Ahsoka_. ~

* * *

A hand pressed to her shoulder. A hazy world of black and blue gave way to the panicked, but handsome face of her master, somehow restored to the right age and height. Tired eyes tried blinking to clear the impossible image. " _Ahsoka_. _Can you hear me?"_

_"M...Master?"_ No, this was wrong. She— she should be dead. She should be locked in a bunker, waiting to die in the arms of a quietly withering Padmé Amidala. He shouldn't be here _._ " _Snips! Hey, come on. I need you to wake up."_

_"Master. You need to leave."_ She reached for him, lifting the weight of her arm and her entire world with it. It settled on Anakin Skywalker's steady wrist. He couldn't be here. He couldn't afford to die here. The Chosen One— " _You'll die if you stay. The_ — the virus."

_"Crisis averted, my little padawan."_

_...What?_

_"Obi-Wan and I saved the day, as per usual_." Relief came as a solid wave that knocked her head back. " _Oh, hey. No you don't. Ahsoka, come on."_

" _You... saved Padmé?"_

_"_ And _you too._ Obi-Wan! _Don't die, damnit. I did not just_ —"

Anakin's voice faded away, and she barely registered the painful hiss of air that burned beneath the irritated skin of her arm. " _There. That should do it. No need to panic, Anakin. She's just as stubborn and resilient as her Master."_

_"Hey_ — _"_

Ahsoka smiled. Their words were a crazed jumble, but just the familiar sound of their mindless squabbling put her at ease. Everything was right in the universe once more. The haze was lifting, but sleep was rushing in fast to replace it. Daylight assaulted her eyes, but the hand tightly held in hers never disappeared.

_"You did a fantastic job today, Snips."_ And Anakin was back once more, his heart hidden securely behind a front of fortified bravado.

_"All thanks to your training, Master."_

_"Yeah, you're right. I do deserve all the credit."_ Could she roll her eyes? Yes, most definitely. " _But not all of it."_

_"Good thing_ —" Sleep flooded her veins, an opposite to the painful scorch of the virus. " _I know you don't mean_ everything _you say."_

_~ Get some sleep, Ahsoka. ~_

_~ Yes, Master. ~_

* * *

" _Damn."_ Qui-Gon's curt grumble brought her hurtling back from a planet and year now life times away. Anakin Skywalker's smile was gone, and instead an unforgivably still body ruled reality once more.

_No, he can't die here._

Her nails cracked leather as she dug them into her palms. Qui-Gon's hand retracted, and he all but crushed his head to the boy's blue lips. What did he mean, _damn_? He can't die here.

_He can't._

The fear danced with sadistic relish in her eyes. A cold blank of nothingness lingered where Anakin laid, taunting her. _He's gone._

* * *

_"He is the Chosen One?"_

_"Yes, he is."_ Master Kenobi walked beside her, the long hallway of the Temple carved by the afternoon sun. Ahsoka folded her hands before herself, her head dropping in instinctual respect at the confirmation. A tan boot passed into the slated sunlight along the marble ground.

" _Then he will bring balance."_

_"Only if Anakin manages not to_ —" She met his gaze from the floor, and witnessed something rare; Master Kenobi reevaluating a quip. Something soft and gentle replaced the hard, critical edge of his gaze. " _Yes, Ahsoka. He will bring balance."_

* * *

It now seemed a terrible lie... a humourless joke. It was something they told themselves so they could sleep easier on the battle field.

But then... he'd meant so much. And not just to her, but to the entire galaxy. To the Force. He was the Chosen One.

He couldn't die here. Not here. Not on Tatooine... not at nine-years-old. _Please._

He'd never given up on her. He'd defied reasoning, he'd defied the laws of nature and the Force to save her; to save the ones he loved. Yes, he'd failed. She'd seen it. She'd seen the Light defeated, liberty falling to the beat of thunderous applause. She'd seen her Master send it toppling with all of his corrupted heart. She'd seen the Jedi slaughtered, she'd seen hallways littered with the dead. And she'd seen Anakin collapse, compliant to the twisted will of the Darkside. He had failed...

But he'd also triumphed.

She would always remember the lightsaber-wielding hero that swung into every battle, defeating an entire battalion of battle droids without losing that blasted smirk. She'd remember the man who strived tirelessly to make the galaxy a better place. She'd remember the man who she'd help stand on Prilax III when he refused to sleep during the campaign. It seemed a lifetime ago that the Prilaxians were under siege from Separatist forces, and Anakin would be damned before he gave up that village they were defending (she also remembered helping Kix sedate him by swapping out the stimulants, before the men carried him off to the makeshift barracks). She'd remember the long hours of meditation and lightsaber practice, the trips to questionable diners, the pinkberry milkshake he always had in hand... The burnt pot roasts, the weekly dinners at Obi-Wan's, the fuming broths, the sickly sweet cups of caf and tea... She'd remember the Jedi that struggled to keep inner peace, but had enough kindness for all who sought it.

She could never forget the man that was her Master. It was far too easy to remember waking from an empty oblivion, and the first thing she could see, _feel_ , was the warm embrace of Anakin Skywalker. His aura pulsed powerfully beside hers, as if its intensity was trying to encourage her own wasted one to take strength once more.

_Oh Anakin_.

_"Hey, Snips. Good of you to join us again."_

"Huh?"

" _You had Obi-Wan really worried."_

And of course, without fail the disembodied voice came floating, _"Goodness, Anakin."_ But a heavy hand did set on her shoulder, and the familiar, constant beacon of Light that was Master Kenobi gleamed behind her.

He'd refused to give up on her. They both had. Even as the Gods of Mortis thrusted their battle unto them and sent the universe spiralling into chaos... Anakin ignored that all, just to save her. The Daughter died with a final, spectacular burst of Light, and Ahsoka came careening back into the realm of the Living. Anakin was there to meet her with a hug, and promising words. For a brief, unrestrained moment, she'd felt a flicker of something so soft and tender brush against her. She wouldn't feel that tempting flicker again, not until some many months later.

She'd have to be standing on the very edge of a thousand foot drop, desperate to both escape and turn back, before she'd feel it again. The baffled pain lined his face, and it was almost a perfect reflection of her own. Grim determination wrung out her nerves, and every step closer her Master took had her inching a cruel step back. Violent gusts of Coruscant's miserable weather tugged at her legs. Promised words couldn't save her now.

"... _I don't know who to trust!"_

"Listen." And she did. _"I would never let anyone hurt you, Ahsoka. Never."_

_... Did you include yourself on that list, Master?_

He'd kept his word... He had. He had barged into the court room at the last possible moment (as only Anakin could), that assured confidence on his face familiar, but doing nothing to hide his inner resolve from her. She knew him too well. Barriss, someone she'd known— _thought_ she knew just as well as Anakin, refused to meet her gaze as Anakin marched her in and put her on display before the courts; before the Jedi; _before the Republic._

And after it all, after all he'd done to clear her name... After all he'd done for her throughout the three years she could lay claim to him as her master and closest friend...

She'd walked away. She had her justified reasons, but that wouldn't change a painful truth. She'd walked away from him, and he had fallen. In the grand scheme of the universe, Ahsoka stood as a tiny, dispensable piece on a playing board of cosmic proportions. She'd trailed the king as a faithful protegé would...

She'd failed him.

...

Qui-Gon Jinn's frown somehow deepened. Ahsoka blinked at the moment with a strange impassiveness.

... Because she'd _failed_ him. She'd failed the nine-year-old in front of her. She'd failed the man of her memories; the man who stood by her in almost everything that she did. She'd left him to fall... She left an entire galaxy to plunge into Darkness. Could she have talked him down, _held_ him down even as he tried to disobey Master Windu's orders and storm to the Chancellor's office? Could a knowing look at Master Kenobi see Anakin seated between them and actually talking? Could she ever hold his confidence, enough that they could pass casual truths between them, such as his marriage and expected little ones? Could she have saved them? Could she have saved him from ending up on that fiery embankment, screaming as the flames left nothing but a writhing corpse? Could she have saved Master Obi-Wan from that unbearable heartache, and forget the impossible ache that lingered at the edges of her own?

Could she have saved the man she loved as if he were her brother?

The answer was no.

She knew it was. She would not have been strong enough to hold him at bay. Even within the elusive confines of the Force, she'd struggled to hold down that monster in her visions.

But _he_ was not that monster. Anakin Skywalker would never be that monster. Anakin Skywalker was a small boy, barley longer than half the length of his bed, and entirely still. It was as if the entire universe had stopped moving with his quiet end. No matter how long Qui-Gon waited for a single breath, he wasn't coming back. Something had taken him during the night, and she hadn't been there to save him; the one person who'd given almost everything to save her so many times. The one time he'd needed her... she was nowhere to be found.

...

_Take me._

A whispered plea into the Force.

A fearsome, soundless scream. _TAKE ME. Please, not him._

_All that he was... All that he still can be._ Despairing eyes turned towards the ceiling, peering past the dismal beige and begging the universe beyond. _He is not that monster. He never will be._ Just give him back.

_Give him back to me._

A useless tear slid down reddened cheeks. A life time lived in a matter of moments was gone forever.

_I'm so sorry, Master. I wasn't there..._

...

One tiny, faint breath ghosted Qui-Gon's ear. Ahsoka Tano flinched.

_"He's alive."_

The Force sung.

A disorderly array of compact limbs, wide, blue eyes and sandy-blond hair delivered Anakin upwards, and a raucous bout of coughing distracted Qui-Gon long enough for Ahsoka to be all but shoving him aside. " _Anakin!_ " Arms flew around him, squeezing him as if her very life depended on it. Any closer, and he may as well have been part of her. Gloved hands worked chaotically over the boy.

"' _Soka!_ " Anakin barely managed the syllables, coughing and spluttering around an oncoming wave of hot tears.

"Stars, Skyguy. Ever do that to me again, and I swear I'll punch you..." Forgetting that her twenty-two-year-old master was in fact, _nine,_ and that threatening physical violence might prompt a few questioning looks, Ahsoka pressed her lips together. "Come here." And he did, obediently falling back into her arms. Two Jedi stood and watched as the third rocked the youngling from side to side. Neither of them could ignore how the Living Force leapt and swirled at the spectacle. Qui-Gon matched Obi-Wan's unspoken question with an equally puzzled brow.

"You're back." Ahsoka muttered into rumpled tunic. The body within the tunic sniffled into her shoulder.

"I heard you." _Sniffle._ "You told me I had to go back."

Her hand ended up in his hair, running the feathery strands through distracted fingers. Well, that wasn't quite what she'd said, but... it didn't matter. He was back _._ She'd defied the laws of causality to win him back. _Call it even?_ She pressed her nose into his sandy tunic, finding that generic soapy-tang and enduring light to his person there. _Thank you._ Ahsoka would have been happy to stay frozen in that awkward bear hug for another hour, but,

" _Ani!"_

_"Mom!"_

And as his mother flew to her side, she forced herself to give him up. His mother's arms replaced hers, her quiet words of nonsense were replaced by soothing lips.

...

She should not have been surprised by the gentle brush of fingers at her elbow. A new habit deftly observed, Obi-Wan had come to break her free from her brooding. She'd seen that hand severed at the wrist; she could almost make out the tidy scorch-marks along the pink of his skin. Ahsoka shook herself away from her visions. No, Anakin was here. He hadn't been taken — that was a blessing in itself. She didn't know what she'd have done with herself if he hadn't been here. Looking behind her revealed a familiar pair of grey eyes. _Obi-Wan._ A silent hand crept between his fingers, and the tips of her own traced a non-existent saber burn along the curve of his wrist. _It hadn't happened._ Anakin hadn't been taken. If she couldn't calm herself by the feel of Anakin in her arms, then perhaps the affirmation of Obi-Wan's steady heartbeat beneath her fingertips would do.

In her peripheral vision, the imposing frame of Master Qui-Gon lost a few inches as the man visibly deflated. The Force coiled briefly, before Qui-Gon was left blinking at the seemingly tiny stature of Ahsoka Tano. Arms had wrapped tightly, securely around herself, and he couldn't ignore the manner in which his apprentice hovered beside her. Neither failed to notice the subtle shaking and scrunched lines of Ahsoka's face, nor the rapidly blinked-back tears.

_"Mom,"_

"I'm here, Ani. You're safe now, my son." Another kiss, another quietening sob.

A gentle hand came to rest on her shoulder. Ahsoka blinked up past the watery veil, damning herself when Qui-Gon Jinn arched a brow down at her. He said nothing, nor asked for anything. But that unmistakable flow of the Living Force now rolling through her brought a sense of comfort she hadn't felt since... since she'd crushed Obi-Wan Kenobi in her arms three nights ago.

... Because she'd won him back. She'd stolen Anakin back from the silent jaws of Death.

"Hey, where's Padmé?"

_... Wait._

_... Oh, Kriff me!_

"The Queen!"

Oh, Sweet Force, how could they have forgotten her? All her conflicting emotions and unshielded thoughts were shunted aside as Obi-Wan crouched beside Padmé. Ahsoka nearly toppled over her slumped body as she stumbled back in shock. And while three Jedi rushed to bring round their Royal charge, a mother and son exchanged puzzled looks.


	23. The Calm Before the Storm

"What was it?"

"I don't know." Past the folds of his tunic, Qui-Gon crossed his arms. A frown darkened his features, and Obi-Wan watched his master lose himself in something well beyond their small corner of the town. And then it was gone, the fleeting edge of frustration coming and going as easily as the wind. A dissatisfied head shook, and Obi-Wan nodded to the flag pole in hand.

"A straggler in the storm. Anakin spotted her when the window shutters broke." Qui-Gon finally shared. Though even that didn't seem the entire truth; the rolling note of caution came much earlier than the brief, desperate warning that rocked him violently from his meditation. A burning red greeted him in the waking world. A resounding darkness silenced the Force, and then everything else with it. He'd just glimpsed the pallor of Shmi Skywalker scurrying around a corner. A dark figure stalked after her… he couldn't do anything, not with that immense weight pressing him further and further to the floor.

— A rampant blast of words he had trouble discerning. The Living Force came rushing too late to ease the Darkness, but what it yelled made little sense. One thing remained with him though… that perhaps it was not the Queen this Darksider had come for.

The frown was back again. "Obi-Wan."

From the confused array of bits and bobs that needed delivering to the hangar, his padawan obediently raised his head. "Yes, Master?"

"I'll need you to—" Qui-Gon broke off, his attention suddenly snatched by hands that were quick to retreat back into oversized sleeves. For once, it was not the maddening length of Obi-Wan's sleeves that prompted his concern. Instead, the barest glimpse of bacta patches and red stopped his train of thought. _What in—_ "Padawan,"

A familiar note of exasperation brushed through the Force, and Qui-Gon could almost make out the teenager rolling those impatient, grey eyes in his direction. He didn't (thankfully) need to ask; Obi-Wan dutifully rose his hands with a sigh of resignation. A patchwork of bacta patches and irritated skin instigated the careful scrutiny of Master Qui-Gon. Once again Obi-Wan was thirteen and sitting red faced on the kitchen bench, Qui-Gon tutting over a grazed knee. Would it be so wrong for a twenty-five-year-old Jedi padawan to brush away his Master's mothering?

"It's nothing, really Master. Just a few scrapes from—"

"Yes, just a few scrapes like when you followed your friends through that underground sewerage pipe on Recidii Prime."

"Bant had her leg lodged in the, _ow."_ Qui-Gon ran a thumb over a particularly raw gash, and Obi-Wan narrowed his eyes at his Master's innocent brow lift. He would swear black and blue he'd done that on purpose. "It's nothing."

Finally, Qui-Gon let the boy's hands go. Though he was reluctant to do so, it seemed the Queen's physician had tended to his injuries — there was little more he could do for his apprentice. But one obvious problem still bothered him. "Would asking you for an explanation trouble you too far, Obi-Wan?"

He resisted the urge to reprimand the indignant huff Obi-Wan gave. " _Ahsoka… carry… sand."_

"Louder, padawan, so I might at least have a running chance at hearing you."

"Ahsoka was forced to carry me back to the cruiser through the sand storm."

...

_~ You never made it? ~_

_~ Evidently so. ~_

Qui-Gon cleared his throat, coughing around the swell of surprise and concern there. "What—"

"When you were knocked unconscious, Master, it must have caused... a localised wave across the training bond."

That prompted the deep set of Master Qui-Gon's brow, and a large hand to run along the greying beard at his chin. He turned away, tan boots coming to rest on a small dune of sand that gathered against the wall of the Skywalker's residence. And then, like before, the wave of frustration ebbed away… for the most part. Across the bond (that Obi-Wan revelled in once more), Qui-Gon's irritation came creeping. "These are difficult times, Obi-Wan." His master turned away from the blindingly bright wall. Carefully prepared words fell past his lips. "I sense there is a great disturbance in the Force; more than what Ahsoka Tano has created with her untimely arrival." A sigh. "We must be mindful of our surroundings." Obi-Wan nodded. "Something tells me we might be central characters in an, as of yet, unclear narrative. But one thing is for certain," At the frown on the boy's face, Qui-Gon found himself mirroring the sentiment. "Ahsoka is somehow key to all this."

Obi-Wan's agreement came in his definitive head nod. "Yes, I sense this too."

"Keep up your mandate, Obi-Wan. Go speak with her. We haven't much of a window for opportunity remaining, and the time for dodged explanations is coming to an end." Something shifted in both the warm brown of his Master's eyes, and his aura. "Don't be willing to rush into the future too quickly, Obi-Wan. Let her come forward in her own time."

"Yes, Master."

"Oh, and one last thing, Padawan." At Obi-Wan's expectant look, something else moved within Qui-Gon's gaze. "I've taken a blood sample from the boy."

 _Yes, of course he has._ "I'll need you to run a midichlorian scan once you return to the ship."

"Yes, Master." And as the blood stained chip transferred from Qui-Gon's communicator to his, Obi-Wan sighed inwardly. As fond of Anakin as he was strangely growing (considering his track record with younglings at the Temple ((who he could usually barely squeeze a word from around their wide eyes and open awe)), he couldn't help but observe the fact that Qui-Gon's proclivity for adopting pathetic lifeforms might be reinstating itself once more. And here he was, under the impression they'd nipped that one in the bud after the unfortunate tumblebunny incident and Master Windu's council chair.

Obi-Wan sighed as Qui-Gon turned and swept out from the secluded enclave they'd stowed away in. Obi-Wan pocketed his communicator, and turned on his heels. First order of business was to find Ahsoka.

Blast, Ahsoka.

Somehow, he was coming to the conclusion that perhaps Ahsoka Tano may not know _everything_ that was to come. But still, her constant eye over Anakin Skywalker, her recurring slip on ' _Master'_ whenever she addressed him, and her familiarity with the Queen of Naboo; they were all markers that he couldn't overlook.

And yet, she'd told him last night. As her lowered shields almost stirred with his, and the storm raged outside, she'd told him openly that she didn't know. He hadn't wanted to believe her, she had to be lying to protect a distant future. But then he'd probed her aura, and found nothing but sincerity enfolding the small part of himself he'd sent into her midsts. She'd meant it, with a crushing honesty. Ahsoka hadn't the first inkling as to what this was.

As Qui-Gon had said a week ago during their initial discussion over Ahsoka Tano — there was simply more to her than what was first obvious.

* * *

"Right, where're we putting these, Kitster?" The eopie she sat atop lurched _again_ , and Ahsoka again extended a hand. It was, roughly the eighth time this beast had attempted to throw them in the past fifteen minutes, and she wasn't exactly _pleased_ , to say the least. A quick dip into the Force saw her mount grumble in submission. Sand-crusted hands rubbed the rolling fat at its sides. _Good boy._

"The spare bay over there." Anakin's friend pointed out the quieter corner of the hanger, and she nudged the now decidedly less-crotchety eopie in the new direction.

"Gotcha."

"Hey, 'Soka! Just dump those over there. I'll get onto them in a minute." Anakin Skywalker was in his element. He seemed to fit perfectly amongst the buzzing array of life and activity within the hangar. Pilots raced around, making last-minute adjustments to their racers. Race crews milled about, and she'd been careful to avoid the ignorant foot traffic as they dragged Anakin's last engine in.

"Last stop. All off."

"Wahoo!" The boy slid off the side of the descending eopie, and once he'd caught himself with effortless ease, he was dashing off to join Anakin's extravagant show of engine-tinkering. She rolled her eyes. _Fine. I don't mind the abandonment._ Giving the great lumbering beast one more generous pat, as if to win its favour (and ensure she didn't end up with a clawed hoof in her gut), she began the task of unbuckling Anakin's last engine. A few close-shaves with the gnashing jaws of a stubborn buckle prompted a colourful word.

"I'm hoping you didn't learn that from your Master." A great tower of Jedi Master stood over her. "Need help?"

Ahsoka spared the buckles in hand a grimace. "You don't suspect Obi-Wan expects Anakin to race with the eopie still attached, do you?"

Master Jinn's gentle laughter saw a head dip, before much larger hands were making short work of the minuscule buckles. It was, by all means, a task that should have been awkward for such large fingers, but Ahsoka watched in quiet wonder as the man unlatched the clips and ties with expert ease. And it wasn't long at all before they had the starboard engine unharnessed from the eopie, and Anakin's weight ratio salvaged.

Her thanks was cut off by a gravely bellow. "Hey, outlander! I wanna see your spaceship."

 _Great. Anakin's master. _She covered the provoked hand to her head by correcting her lekku. She wasn't so sure her eye roll went unnoticed, though. _Am wishing it was the other one. Speaking of which, where is he?_

"Patience, my blue friend. You'll have your winnings before the suns set, and we'll be far away from here." In a way, Master Kenobi was already there. She watched from the corner of her eye as the diplomat beside her gently folded his hands.

"Not if your ship belongs to me, I think... I warn you, no funny business!"

Ahsoka crossed her arms, her elbows brushing against Master Jinn's. The master mirrored her actions, again highlighting a startling height difference as elbows brushed against her upper arms. "You don't think Anakin will win?"

That earned a round of obnoxious laughter, and the two Jedi watched as the toydarian buzzed across to another bay. A male dug sat, lazing backwards in the arms of a twi'lek girl. Petite hands struggled to massage his bony neck, and a smile failed to stay bright. Another sat at his feet, clipping and filing soiled toe nails. Ahsoka's nose crinkled.

"Don't get me wrongo! I have great faith in the boy. He's a credit to your race!" Well, at least they could agree on something. "But Sebulba there is going to win, I think."

"Why?" She didn't need to feel around Master Qui-Gon's shields to know that a plan was formulating. She'd seen it enough times on the men around her during battle. A quiet, reserved authority lingered around Qui-Gon, much the same as it did with Master Kenobi or Plo on the battlefield.

"He always wins!" Watto laughed. "I'm betting heavily on Sebulba."

"I'll take that bet."

... Huh?

He put it forward as if it were the natural thing to say. It seemed both her and Watto were equally baffled in that moment, if their mirrored blinking and slack jaws could say anything. And it seemed only Master Qui-Gon could find the time to look her way, and see her jaw close once more. _What's he up to, anyway? What more do we have to barter with? Don't get me wrong, but I don't think the Queen's wardrobe will be_ that _flattering on Watto._

 _"What?_ What do you mean? Look, you've even got the girl stumped!"

Qui-Gon ignored that, thankfully. "I'll wager my new racing pod against, say... the boy and his mother."

_... Oh._

_OH._

Oh Force... _Is this it?_ Was this the moment Master Jinn won Anakin Skywalker's freedom? This inconsequential moment, a causality-defining decision disguised as underhanded bartering? It somehow seemed underwhelming.

"A pod for slaves? I don't think so... well, perhaps. Just one... the mother, maybe. The boy isn't for sale."

"Why not?" She'd tried not to spit on him, but it was an instinct she had trouble crushing. There seemed to be a failure of synapse connections between Jedi etiquette and anything involving Anakin Skywalker in her mind. A hand appeared at her arm. The rush of _calm_ came once more, flowing from Master Qui-Gon's fingers. Watto frowned her way.

"Because he's not. Slaves are expensive, girly. You Inner Rim folk forget that, living in your tiny bubbles of wealth and riches." Watto squinted an uneven eye in her direction, and she ignored it when it roamed. "You best keep your girl quiet, outlander! And maybe _you_ should keep _him_ quiet," a goading finger shook in her direction. "Before he starts wagering you, hey?"

"The boy is small, he can't be worth much." Qui-Gon again tried to divert the conversation back to his target. But as much as Qui-Gon had an objective, it seemed Watto was aiming to derail him. He shook his head. "For the fastest pod ever built?"

 _I don't think the sweet root and tookie method's gonna work here, Master._ Ahsoka sighed to herself. _"A cardsharp's weakness is his gambling, Ahsoka. Never forget that."_ One of many teachings Anakin had passed onto her (and one of the rare ones by mouth) came to her then. They'd been passing through the Outer Rims on the lookout for a disruptive hustler with a penchant for ancient Jedi artefacts when he'd imparted this tidbit of knowledge on her... A whole new perspective could be offered now. It also finally provided an explanation to the distant look in his eye and his jostled start when she'd reached a hand across their drinks to him. He'd looked through her, and she could see the lifetime playing loudly behind his eyes. A step closer, and she too may have been sucked into his memories of the past.

Perhaps in a few years, she could appreciate the irony.

Watto's head shake brought her back from her thoughts. Peering now between the impassive line of Qui-Gon's face, and the hard-edged aggression on Watto... They were both as stubborn as the other, but one was bound to bend soon. Ahsoka disguised her smile as a mistimed cough; _Outer Rim junk dealer prone to gambling, or seasoned Jedi Master, gallons of sour tea behind him._ _Round one, go._ "Both, or no bet."

"No pod is worth two slaves, not by a long shot!" Beady, greedy eyes narrowed in Master Jinn's direction. "One slave, or nothing."

"The boy, then."

She'd known it was coming, but it still saw her fists curl.

"We'll let fate decide. Blue, it's the boy. Red, his mother." A chance cube from the murky depths of Watto's pouch curbed in the air, before bouncing wildly across the dusty grounds. Master Qui-Gon beat her to the mark, his subtle hand calling the Force to align fate. The cube rolled to a stop. _Blue._

Ahsoka arched a disbelieving brow. A game of chance. _A game of chance_ won Anakin's freedom? Well, a rigged game, but—

"Urgh! You won the small toss, outlanders!" Watto was in their faces, jabbing an accusing finger between their brows. Ahsoka winced at the foul breath hot on her cheeks. Master Qui-Gon simply leaned further back, and not even the noxious fumes of severe halitosis could cut through his confidence. _Force,_ she'd smelt bantha breath that was sweeter. "But you won't win the race, so... it makes little difference!"

A furious flurry of tiny wings beating doubletime to keep him up, Watto buzzed away. The skeptical look of Anakin Skywalker trailed after him, before Ahsoka met his gaze. Watto noticed him as well, throwing an almost friendly hand towards him. "Bonapa keesa pateeso, o wanna meetee chobodd! Heeta ma bo nana pertee nah."

"What did he mean by that?" Anakin asked once they were close enough.

"I'll tell you later." Qui-Gon lifted her master from the top of his engine. Ahsoka smiled. Anakin found the entire process of soaring up, and then meeting the ground... well, _wizard_ seemed fitting. Again, she was reminded of how much of a stranger she was to these events. _But_ _i_ _t means you're free, Skyguy._

They'd arranged his freedom. By sun set, they'd all be back onboard the cruiser, well on their way to the heart of the Galactic Republic. Ahsoka blinked, asking herself why she considered it such a shock... and why did her middle still feel as though it were rolling over?

The sudden party riding up to them gave her an answer to her destructive nerves. Behind the young, fresh-faced Obi-Wan Kenobi, Shmi Skywalker sat. And as Obi-Wan pulled the great lumbering beast to a halt and sent it to its knees, Shmi slipped off with an offered hand from Qui-Gon Jinn.

Her heart sank. Her shields skyrocketed.

Because despite Anakin's freedom, he'd left a part of his heart behind with his mother. Why hadn't Master Qui-Gon seen it important to free her? Once again, Ahsoka damned the order that had raised her. Their precious clinging to an antiquated code... Look what it did. Look what it created. If they could take something so pure as the love between a mother and child, and frame it as something dangerous... _If they continuously demonise attachment_... Yes, they could destroy the small, selfless boy before her.

Ahsoka was tired... Tired of seeing a mismatched slideshow of horror every time she thought she glimpsed yellow in Anakin's eyes. No matter how much the Jedi swore to the Light themselves, they'd let him fall. His destruction became their failure.

_Not again._

Because an outdated ideal may have tainted the Order, but the people within did not deserve such a horrifying end. None of them. Not the Council, Masters, knights, padawans... not the younglings.

Ahsoka squeezed her eyes shut. The rancid stench of the untended dead assaulted her nose.

_Anakin._

Where had they gone wrong? What could they have changed? She'd promised this morning to whoever or whatever had him that he'd never become that... _thing_. _Vader_ would never have a chance to breathe as Anakin Skywalker.

"'Soka."

She shivered. Anakin stopped before her, chasing away the gathering haze of dread. A head inclined, and then a photostat appeared from behind his oversized tunic. A small hand shook it her way. "I could use some help retightening the front nacelles. The ride over here jostled them a bit loose."

"Yeah." She blinked away the lifetime that came creeping once more. "Yeah, 'course I can Skyguy."

And so she sat by her nine-year-old master as he talked her through the many pilots he'd be racing against today ("... _that I'll be winning against, 'Soka.")_. She listened and worked as he described the great Ben Quadinarous, whose subclass engines sent him sprawling into the grandstand a year previous. And Boles Roor, who's bark was much worse than his bite. And old Gasgano, who always, _always_ had trouble on the Shrieking Turns, no matter _how_ many times he's practiced it. And of course, there was Sebulba. Everything of Anakin sunk into a gloom as he described the many winning streaks of the champion-cheat, Sebulba.

"You'll watch out for him, yeah?" She tired to meet his eye as she tweaked an exhaust rudder.

"Yeah. I always do. He's always _there_ too, because he thinks I'm an easy target."

She almost chipped the paint work, cursing the blue stripes, before she noticed how quiet Anakin had become. He'd never been this silent before, especially when he had a chance to talk podracing. He'd only ever been so subdued a few hours earlier. She'd bartered her life for his just at the off chance of hearing his voice again.

She'd been lucky that the universe was willing to listen.

Ahsoka pulled herself out from between the fan and front nacelle. Anakin Skywalker blinked at her, his hands running over his collection of tools before him. And when his gaze fell away, her chest gave an unprecedented heave.

Force, he was only nine-years-old. For all the confidence of Master Qui-Gon, even Anakin himself — and even _her —_ they'd forgotten how small he was. And not just physically (a diminutive physique was actually helpful in a streamline sport such as podracing), but mentally. And _emotionally_. It was a lot to expect this youngling to risk life and limb all to see them on their merry way back to Coruscant. She had the upmost faith that he could, but she wondered if _he_ had that same faith.

This out-of-place vulnerability somehow pained her more than his hellish cries of agony.

"Hey," She pushed herself away from the engine, and put her photostat to one side. "Anakin." His eyes obediently rose to hers. "Tell me _—_ " For a moment she considered asking him _why_ he was about to race, as if that could possibly bolster his confidence. But then, she knew exactly why he was doing this. She knew, because he'd always had time for her. Always had an awful joke to share with her. Always had an arm to throw around her. And she always had a lap to lay her head on and close her eyes, wherever they were.

Her words ran dry in her mouth. The previous encouragement now felt superficial,hollow. She pressed her chapped lips together, and damned herself with the knowledge that the image of Anakin as he was in this moment would be forever with her. "Hey. Can I tell you a secret?"

A little head nodded. The hangar churned with life, but Ahsoka Tano and Anakin Skywalker were huddled beneath the latter's starboard engine, lightyears away.

"There are only a very few people I'd trust my life with." Blue glittered with hope and confusion. "A very wise and very kind man once said, we only take with us what we wish too. But even then, we can't always control what lies in here." A hand pressed against Anakin's chest, and he trailed the long expanse of bronzed skin to a gentle smile. "It was a bit odd hearing something like that from him, it was too open and emotional. For a long time, I thought it was an exercise in minding your feelings, but now..."

He never once looked away or itched an impatient arm; it was her own frustration at her winding explanation that wrung her out. "What I'm trying to say is, there are certain people I have in here," she managed to gesture to her chest as casually as she could, not wanting to drown him with the inexperienced emotion she could feel thrumming beneath her skin. "People that I will always have faith in."

She almost failed to stop the urgent want to gush out her utter faith in _him._ Ahsoka stilled her tongue, until she was sure she could taste blood. "Padmé. Rex. Master Plo. Obi-Wan..." The corners of her smile trembled. "And especially my master."

... When she didn't continue, Anakin frowned. He didn't want to interrupt her, but she'd trailed off... and he found he _didn't_ know who her master was. Mister Qui-Gon was Obi-Wan's master... but who was Ahsoka's? Well, whoever they were, they were very important to her. She'd tuned out, and he could almost feel the distance gathering around her now... something wanted to push him aside, asked him to look the other way.

Anakin set his jaw. A big part of him really did wish for a nice finish to all this, if only because Ahsoka seemed to be going for that, and he could really use a nice ending about now.

"'Soka?"

"Huh? Oh." And she came back from whatever other-place she'd lost herself to. Obi-Wan said she had a habit of doing that. He said it was best to overlook it if that happened (and to tell him about it when it was next convenient). "Sorry Ani. I'm making a real hash outta this, aren't I. What I'm trying to say is,"

_I'll always have faith in you._

And it came as a resounding shock, because she knew it was true. No matter what atrocities she'd seen him commit; no matter how many hearts he left crushed and lives he had destroyed... She had faith in him. Because she _knew_ who Anakin Skywalker was. Who he truly was.

"What I'm trying to say is, I have faith in you."

Her eyes bore into his, and he wondered if it were possible she could see every single thing he'd ever done in his life. His mother had a tendency to do the same thing, but this was somehow different. Something brutally honest spoke through her gaze, and Anakin felt himself swallow around the sudden swell in his throat.

She had faith in him? Was it her visions again, had she seen him win?

"Anakin. If we don't get this hooked up now, it's never going to be. And as much as I _— Oh, hello there._ Ahsoka. I didn't see you."

"That's a first." She smiled up at him, the curve of her lips genuine. "Uhh—"

Anakin watched as Ahsoka's eyes darted now between Obi-Wan and himself, as if she was unsure of whom to give her attention to. But finally, they settled back on him. "Remember Anakin. Trust your instincts. But more importantly, remember to have faith in yourself." Again, her eyes became gentler as she was half caught in lifting herself up and out from under the engine. "That's always half the battle."

"Wise words." Obi-Wan gave her a measured nod in concurrence, before she was joining his side.

She barely caught the flash of hesitance Anakin sent Obi-Wan... The feeling that the older padawan had just come charging into their small world uninvited came to mind. She understood that, and stifled the burn of pride that Anakin felt he could confide in her. But then the realisation that even now, Anakin believed he couldn't open up to Obi-Wan...

Her worry would have to wait for a later time. Because right now, an already delayed podrace demanded that her nine-year-old master be at the frontline in less than twenty minutes. A garbled loudspeaker herded pilots and race crews alike out of their bays, and towards the blinding sun at the open end of the hangar. Ahsoka could hear the crowds from here.

"Don't worry. We still have twenty minutes." Qui-Gon sidled past her, and she caught the concern in his eye.

"Twenty minutes to finish hooking all this together, get it back onto the eopie, and out onto the track. We're lucky the storm postponed the race."

"Yes, indeed."

" _This is so wizard, Ani!"_ Kitster slid down the incline of Anakin's racer chassis, and stopped by her. "I'm sure you'll do it this time!"

"Do what?" From beside Shmi, Padmé frowned at the younger boy.

After this morning's incident, the Skywalker family seemed to keep a respectful three paces from her. Somewhere in the confusion, Padmé concluded she'd been unveiled as the Queen of Naboo. She was just grateful they hadn't taken to dipping their heads in respect whenever she went past.

With Anakin and Master Jinn heading to the hangar early (after Qui-Gon was assured Anakin could race), Ahsoka and Kitster taxied the engines over. She'd caught a ride to the hangar with Obi-Wan, who'd been sandwiched between herself and Anakin's mother, and as such, had trouble steering their mount. She'd only almost died twice, and each time was followed by a strenuous apology from Kenobi (even though he'd saved her from ending up underside of the beast and between four excitable legs).

But no, back to now. What did he mean by, _this time?_

"Win, of course!" Kitster never lost his smile, but three sets of unconvinced frowns turned on Anakin. He swallowed, and offered them all a sheepish grin in reparation.

"You've never won a race?" Padmé openly glared at him, and the corners of her lips drew back in disbelief. (No, no. Not _just_ Padmé... but the _Queen of Naboo!_ was frowning at him. Anakin wrinkled his nose.)

"Well, not exactly..." He shrugged, and wished he could kick Kitster for ever opening his stupid mouth in the first place.

"I'm hoping its not too farfetched to imagine that you've _finished_ one before, yes?" Obi-Wan didn't approve... he could tell by the way by his jaw set, let alone his hundred-yard frown. Anakin beamed his way.

"Kitster's right. I will this time." And he threw a hand around his friend's shoulders just to solidify his claim. Once again, Ahsoka took in the display of uneven teeth, and sighed. When she turned her head, she found Master Qui-Gon watching over her shoulder. Stars, where had he come from?

But the corners of Qui-Gon's mouth lifted. "Of course you will."

"Yep."

And after Anakin's somewhat awkward final word, the discussion was dropped and all hands were on deck once more. Obi-Wan tried organising Anakin and Kitster's seemingly chaotic attempts at herding eopies and reconnecting engines and pods... until, of course, it turned into Anakin yelling at Obi-Wan for using an incorrect coupling. Qui-Gon stood in to ease mounting tensions and nerves, and Ahsoka helped her poor grandmaster hook the harness back round an overly-enthusiastic eopie. Things coasted along smoothly until suddenly, they were all standing on an enormous race strip. The brilliant light of day burst over them all. The arena cheered in euphoric joy, even as the racers lingered on sidelines, waiting for their opportunity to make a grand entrance.

Shmi's hands were clamped to her son's shoulders, a fact Ahsoka only noticed when she herself made the move to put her hands there.

Force. _This_ was something else.

It was as if they had ultimately forgotten what had transgressed this morning. Had it simply been her imagination that _something_ or more, _someone_ had rendered them all inert? And not just that, but completely removed them from the Force. It had been as if they weren't there. And Anakin... she didn't want to think on that right now. All they needed to do right now was sit and wait.

Sit and wait.

Would they sit and wait for that thing to come back? It was no great mystery now _who_ had sabotaged Anakin's starboard engine. They were roughly five foot ten, and had a penchant for concealing robes and the Darkside.

And here they were, sending Anakin out into battle with an enemy that they couldn't predict. Whatever the motive was, _they_ clearly didn't want Anakin racing.

A multitude of possible reasons came flooding to mind, but the sudden shrill racket of loudspeakers caused the crowd to go up in waves. _Another ten minutes._ Force... what little moisture Tatooine's air had seemed to fizzle up around her. Her eyes would be glued to Anakin's every move, and her mind stretched to every reach this side of Tatooine.

_Stars, Master. What do we do this time?_


	24. Untimely Revelations Pt.II

"Ahsoka, there are at least four more people who need to slide in behind us."

"What?" It seemed to take great effort to turn her away from the frontline. That invisible strip in the sand held her concentration, and the Force coiled around her in a menacing wave of contempt. If he didn't know any better, he'd say the strip of sand she glared down had personally suffocated her closest friends.

Obi-Wan sighed. "What it'll be this time, sand in your eye or the sun's too bright?"

She caught on quick enough. Rolling her eyes, she turned away once more... but at least shuffled forward the few steps needed to allow him past. "How about, we're down wind of something foul?" He stopped beside her, leaning his weight against the railing in front.

"As lacking as my olfactory senses might be in lieu of yours," He caught her eye, and the edge of her threatening smile. "But if it were as bad as your grimace suggests… I think I might be able to smell it too."

Ahsoka smiled down at her hands, and he watched them roll and twist over the rusted chrome railing before her. However, the fortified wall of agitation eased somewhat, and he took some comfort from the fact that her shields would even lower in his presence. She disappeared often enough behind them — he'd caught himself turning with his arms flexing, ready to catch her convulsing form. Force knew each of them were now taking turns with unsettling bouts of unconsciousness.

Her eyes again fixed on the racing strip before them, and her hands quietly took a sturdy grip on the railing. He could almost feel the bones in her fingers cracking, sliding further and further till they had the defenceless pole in a chokehold.

"And pray tell, what did the railing do to you?" he asked.

"Huh?"

Obi-Wan gestured to her hands— and she snatched them back, as if only now did she notice she'd been holding the railing hostage. Her eyes met his, and he could almost feel her weighing up her options. Would she risk ramming her shields up as far as they would go to cover everything, and risk incriminating herself further; or lower them to feign innocence and allow her wave of emotion to flow over him?

He almost felt guilty for pointing it out.

What followed was what he could only describe as a staring contest, something he seldom took part in these days. Once it had been a different story. Vos had been a fan, and lost miserably to the hailed champion, Obi-Wan, until the age of thirteen. Well, until he _cheated_ at the age of thirteen. Lubricating one's eyes by frivolous use of the Force, Vos insisted, was not cheating. It was just using the available resources.

Obi-Wan took himself out of the obscure memory, only to be left playing Corellian chicken with Ahsoka Tano. Whoever blinked first would be forced to look away.

She lost dismally when she again glanced down at her hands, but the corners of her lips did tilt up in both their favours. "Would you believe me if I told you I really don't like sand?"

"Considering I was pronounced clinically dead twelve hours ago because of it, yes. I'd believe that." Again, that guilty flicker of eye contact. "But sand alone isn't causing you to strangle the nearest inanimate object, Ahsoka."

He caught her out on that, he could feel something that stung of irritation scrape against him. And again, it took great effort to break her away from the scene they'd been dismissed from mere minutes ago. Upon the starting line, Anakin organised the remaining chaos of his podracer.

"I'm guessing it's somehow _convenient_ to forget we found Anakin unconscious this morning, along with Padmé, his mother, _and_ Qui-Gon." She crossed her arms, and slowly turned on him. A slender brow rose in his direction, daring him to come up with a witty retort now.

Obi-Wan let his gaze stray to the current scene below them; Qui-Gon removed the flag pole from Anakin's podracer and handed it to the boy's half-assembled protocol droid. After a few belated moments of floundering, the droid accepted it (following what had to equate to an encouraging shoulder clap from the Queen's astromech.) The astrodroid rolled head on into unsuspecting legs. Even from a distance, he could make out the perturbed start of Anakin's droid. Anakin called for Qui-Gon again. Padmé outmanoeuvred the attempts Anakin's droid made to badger her out of the blinding sunlight.

Obi-Wan's gaze fell back to Ahsoka. "Do not take this the wrong way, Ahsoka, but it is convenient."

She looked as though he'd just declared his responsibility for some sort of heinous crime. And again, he was left wondering why she felt so openly for the boy.

"It is no mystery now as to who sabotaged Anakin's engines." he offered. 

"No." Silence, before, "You saw the vision last night, right?"

Obi-Wan frowned in the sun and blinked her way, but she found his assent there.

"How many bodies did you count?" she prompted.

"Five." He replied after doing the mental math.

"Then we saw the same vision, but from different angles again." Her arms folded neatly back over her chest, and one gloved hand came to rest at her chin. "Because I only saw one..." Again, that guilty flicker of eye contact.

Was this what was occupying her thoughts? Was this why she couldn't bring herself to lose Anakin from her sights? "Then you saw Coruscant, as well." he asked after a beat.

"Yes. Two figures this time. One more from the building itself." Her eyes seemed to track the scene as if it were playing out before her.

But Obi-Wan frowned. "No, she docked a speeder on the far side of the building." At this, her gaze snapped up to his. His frown deepened if it were possible. "You didn't—?" he tried, but she was squinting now. "You didn't see Anakin, then?" 

"No?" Ahsoka's eyes went wide, mouth snagging on the proverbial hook he'd cast. Obi-Wan folded his arms carefully to his chest.

"He was on the passenger side, unconscious. She'd draped something over him, a blanket I think."

"A blanket?" Again, Ahsoka's lips curled in confusion.

Obi-Wan took a moment to consider whether or not he should voice his own thoughts — and the conclusions he'd come to — on what he'd witness. He could recall the manner in which Anakin sat propped up in the passenger side, his chin sitting against his small chest while his lips were chapped by the harsh winds of the open speeder. The wind battered his hair, but the robe around him remained fixed. The forgone conclusion was that his captor was attempting to minimise his presence as much as possible.

But then they'd pulled from the traffic.

Then they'd docked by the railings of the thousandth floor.

And then a considerate hand smoothed the fringe from Anakin's forehead. The blanket was tucked tighter to his sides to fend off the wind, and gentle fingers curved over his cheek.

... Why hadn't Ahsoka seen _that_?

"This isn't making any sense." Ahsoka took a moment, running a hand down her face. Incredulity wore her features, and she tapped a frustrated finger against her chin. "None of it."

"We're in agreement there." He was left observing her back as she turned away. Shoulders hunched, and the muscles of her back shifted almost in agitation. The sunlight enflamed the dusky hue there, even as it cast half of her in shadow. The blue and white patterning of her montrals caught his attention then, and he could almost place the patterning to the design on Anakin's racer.

Though it was her half-panicked muttering that brought him back.

" _There's only ever supposed to be two._ The Rule of Two. Every initiate ends up knowing it; a master, and the apprentice."

" _Sith?"_ Obi-Wan choked on the word, well before he could stop himself, or even consciously comprehend what she'd mumbled. No, no, she had to be wrong… Every Jedi knew that the Sith were all but extinct… They were simply a legend, kept alive by fearful padawans and initiates. One could be forgiven for thinking they were a fabrication of the Council, made to stop the appeal of the Darkside.

He'd faced down a notable number of those who'd drawn power from the Darkside of the Force before now… Xanatos, the 'Clan' on Recidii Prime… but there hadn't been a Sith in over a thousand years.

They were a legend, stretching from a bygone time defined by unrest.

 _..._ But here stood Ahsoka Tano, from more than a decade into the future, mumbling of the ancient order with panic in her eyes.

" _Sith?"_ he repeated again, when he finally caught her wide eyes.

"I—" Something moved within her, and again he saw her weighing her options. She ultimately stranded herself in a cycle of frustration and panic, the microseconds ticking by and forming the answer for her.

She turned away again. "I—"

"Ahsoka," He reached out a hand, barely catching the smooth gap of skin between her bands and gloves. That growing feeling of dismay within him, flashes of yellow eyes and vicious smiles — they now lined up against ancient texts that he'd once fallen asleep upon in the Archives. Pulling on the Force, the wave of Light and peace battled with his unease. That same surge of Light met his fingertips, crackling at her edges. Obi-Wan swallowed, finding the mental space to think for them both as they both worked to filter the panic.

 _"_ Are you sure it is Sith?" The softness lining his tone saw her blink, and again her lack of words spoke thousands.

"Do you recognise them?" He dared to ask the question.

Ahsoka shook her head. "No, and that's the dangerous part."

Obi-Wan… _didn't_ know what to do with this information (which was a rare thing, if he did say so himself). She seemed adamant that they were Sith… but she didn't recognise them.

"I— Look, it's difficult to explain, but," she grit her teeth, and he noted it would have been a fearsome sight on the grassy plains of Shili. "I can't dodge it anymore." A swollen stretch of silence. Something urgent danced in the blue of her gaze. "There's too much at stake."

She glanced back towards the front lines, where pilots and race crews ordered themselves in a now recognisable hierarchy. Eopies and race crews slowly bled away, and the ding of the crowds punctuated the scene.

But still, through it all, Anakin Skywalker's gaze met hers… almost as if called to her. _But that's impossible._

_Unless…_

"Anakin." Obi-Wan frowned. "Anakin. It's Anakin she's after. Not the Queen."

"… Yes."

 _Stars. All the times she's collapsed. The overabundance of smiles…_ "Master Qui-Gon wants me to run a midichlorian scan on the boy."

She didn't meet his gaze. He wondered if she knew already. "… It'll be over twenty-thousand."

" _Twenty-thousand?!"_ He tried not to splutter, but somewhat failed. "Not even Master Yoda has a count that high."

"Exactly."

"No, wait. This— how do you possibly—?"

" _Oh boy."_ She ran another hand over her face, pulling at her jaw as she did so. Indecision wrung her dry, sitting in the anxious line of her body, and face.

The Force came when called, moving through him as it coasted towards the young woman in front of him. "I thought I might get away with this for a bit longer, but," she sighed, and he watched as she smoothed a hand over her cheeks. That hand then took a choke hold around the base of her neck, skin indenting where the nails dug in. When he discerned the distressed tremor in her emotions, Obi-Wan dismissed the urge to reach over and wrap his own hand around hers and try and gently pry her fingers loose.

"Anakin wins, doesn't he."

She met his gaze, finally, and again he saw the answer there. " _Yes_."

She seemed to be shocked by his gentle nod, as if given in agreement. She bit her bottom lip, and wondered if Obi-Wan had come to his own conclusions. Perhaps he'd already guessed, it wasn't like she was managing to decently hide her affection for Anakin. It seemed every time she slipped, every time she smiled and ran a hand through his hair — every time Anakin offered her a full account of his toothy grin, she'd pause on reflex. She was always sure she'd caught that glimpse of yellow turning away from her…

It seemed Obi-Wan was always there, quietly observing her every incriminating action.

"Over twenty-thousand…" Obi-Wan whispered behind her in disbelief. His blatant disbelief saw her cringe, biting down on her tongue and steeling her want to take it all back.

" _Yes."_

The silence then was deafening, the crowds of the Boonta Eve Classic dying away.

"How do you know him?"

Her eyes flew open at the question. "He— ah," Oh Force. Could she tell him? No, because if she revealed the boy as her Master, and painted him in all the glorious lights that she wanted to, she would unwittingly back herself further into a corner that was already so very dangerous. Because Obi-Wan could see her distress whenever she spoke of Anakin, and to show Anakin in such brilliant light would give rise to a question she couldn't answer. ' _If that is so, Ahsoka, and he is to become all those things, then why are you here? What happened?'_

"He… he was a good friend." She turned back to him, folding her arms. "A very good friend." There was certainly truth to what she'd said. In all honesty, there was always a sliver of truth in every lie.

"Then he is to be trained."

"Yes."

"Will Master Qui-Gon train him?"

She expected to catch an edge of frustration, perhaps even resentment in Obi-Wan's demeanour, but that shadow of bitterness was absent. He genuinely wanted to know.

But what to tell him? _No, your Master will die a week from today, at the hands of a deranged Sith that even you couldn't stop in the end, Obi-Wan._ Her gaze turned away, and she wanted to scratch away the burn of his eyes. "Trust me, it isn't that important at the moment, Master. Anakin needs to finish this race, and the Sith are already here. They've sabotaged his podracer, they've knocked both me, you and everyone else unconscious. At this point, I hate to send him out there, but..." Desperation turned her gaze back to him. "… We need those winnings."

"I agree… But you're worried he's not going to win this."

"Yes?" Incredulity snuck back once more into her voice. "Aren't you?"

"Of course, but—"

"Yeah, you're right." She folded her arms, cutting him off. "We must have faith in the Force. Always."

"Something tells me you're not entirely convinced by that."

"Would you be?" She turned her head to him as he joined her back against the railing. The last of the race crews were leaving. "If you woke up thirteen years in the past knowing what you should do, only to find you could be outmanoeuvred at every choice you make?"

She ignored the slip she made, and turned back to the front line.

Anakin Skywalker waved goodbye to Padmé Amidala, who had managed to evade Master Jinn's instructions to wait at the viewing platform until now. A last minute scrabble with Watto, a brief scare with the engine ignition… Skyguy appeared leaps and bounds ahead of his mother's worrying.

Her fingers curled into her son's tunic and eyes squeezed shut. A hand carded through that feathery hair that would one day crown his head in a mane. She pressed a kiss to his shoulder and cheek, holding his arms steady and imploring him to come back to her… before she was swept aside so Master Qui-Gon could have word with the boy.

And that was what was wrong with the image. Anakin's eyes lingered too long on his mother, fingers remained outstretched too far — enough for Master Qui-Gon to notice and curl the youngling's hand in his own after a moment of gentle consideration. "Ani." Blue eyes snapped away from his mother, and for once Ahsoka wondered if nine was perhaps too old, too mentally acclimatised and dependent on a way of life to be changed so drastically.

And her stone thrown into the pond didn't go without its ripples of repercussions. She'd left him, perhaps should have paid more attention to what he'd sworn beneath those pillars a week ago. His affection, _attachment_ to Padmé. All just products of Anakin and his mishandling.

The Seperatist Base was back again, pulsing red around her.

"Ahsoka? Are you alright?"

The gentle question of Padmé Amidala, who'd magically appeared at her side, threw her from the moment. Ahsoka blinked down at her. "Uh, yeah. 'Course. Why?"

"Because I hope we don't need to pay for damages." Obi-Wan dryly pointed out, gesturing to the now crumpled railing at hip height.

Ahsoka blinked at that as well, before she was stuffing her guilty hands by her sides. Padmé turned her head in concern. "You're worried about Anakin?"

Ahsoka rolled her eyes. " _When am I not?"_

"I have faith in him." The Queen nodded to herself, setting her hands against the partially destroyed railing. Obi-Wan matched the action, taking in the approaching image of Master Qui-Gon, Shmi, and the Queen's astromech.

Some part of him was rejoicing at having managed to unpack an aspect of the impossible enigma that was Ahsoka Tano (particularly the part where his own hunches were now coming to light). Another part was rolling in frustration. Master Qui-Gon's reminder bade him to not grab her and drill her with questions until they were both exhausted. " _Don't be willing to rush into the future too quickly, Obi-Wan. Let her come forward in her own time."_

So far, Qui-Gon's method of unending patience had led him this far. He could wait till after the race... But who knew if the universe would wait that long? Well, the obvious answer would be Ahsoka. But the way she kept her eyes cast to Anakin, and that pulsing muscle in her tight jaw... she was just as nervous as his mother.

Qui-Gon was at ease, his faith placed firmly in the Force and this small boy's abilities.

Obi-Wan found himself as the bearer of the rocky middle ground. He wouldn't panic, but it seemed Ahsoka's unease swamped the air around them.

"How is he?" Ahsoka asked as finally, the last of their party arrived. Qui-Gon set a hand on her shoulder, coming to stand behind her.

"Fine."

"Is he nervous?"

"Not as much as I sense you are, young one." That hand squeezed the tense muscles of her shoulder. "Breathe. Have faith."

"Yes, Master." And she would.

A crowd of unknown faces jeered and cheered from across the stadium, and Ahsoka tried to take in each and every one. Because _someone_ had to be who they were looking for. _Someone_ here would make a move. That woman would try something, and Force forbid if she let anything happen to Anakin.

Another storm brewed in the far-off distance. But the turbulent horizon framed their predicament perfectly. They were waiting… Simply waiting for all hell to break loose. The tenter hooks were sharp, and Ahsoka was desperate to get away from them.

Something breathed down her neck, someone stretched a slim, fetid hand towards Anakin.

 _You can't have him._ She swallowed, her heart sliding back down once more. She straightened her back, the tension moving to even her posture. _You'll never have him. Not if I'm here..._

The winds were picking up as the loud speakers finally began naming contestants.


	25. Come on, Skyguy!

It was in moments like now, that Obi-Wan Kenobi found himself simmering between a love of Force-sensitivity, and somewhat loathing it. For obvious reasons, the benefits of Force-sensitivity tended to outweigh any foreseeable negatives. But when he was stranded with another Force-user that was clearly in distress, and he was stuck trying to navigate and discreetly soothe away the advancing cloud of destructive doom...

That dread had a habit of spreading like wild fire.

It head-hopped amongst other unsuspecting Force-sensitives, leaving those inexperienced with masking and shielding lost to its obstructive nature. It was common within the crèches. You have one unusually gifted youngling suffering from the mild pangs of hunger or exhaustion; a sudden wave of wailing children could overwhelm the attending crèche master. Reinforcements were often needed in cases like these.

He'd been unfortunate enough to be passing through on an errand once.

He wore the baby sick back to Master Sinube's class. The stench lingered in his tunics for a month after.

Heightened empathy had both its strengths and weaknesses, according to the Jedi Doctrine. But it was taught early on within the Temple how to construct daily mental shielding, and that maintaining emotional peace was the best method to guarantee no classroom full of shared headaches, or a strong dislike of Master Drunall's 'culinary shortfalls'.

Not that heightened empathy really had a hand in perpetuating something like the latter.

All in all, his complaint was that by roughly his age, having a strong hold on any wayward emotion should be instinctual for a Jedi Padawan.

One should not be stuck having to strategically fend off the oncoming wall of stress from another padawan.

But then, yet again, one usually didn't arrive thirteen years in the past, and find themselves entangled in an increasingly complex web. Well, at least, that was how Obi-Wan was coming to consider Ahsoka's entire existence so far in this time.

At the moment, the young woman in question looked one heartbeat away from climbing over the edge of the railing she clung too (which, incidentally, she had crushed only minutes before.) The crowd around them egged on the compères for the podrace, and fought for dominance over his focus. Ahsoka again pulsed like a beacon into the Force.

Qui-Gon's concern rolled gently behind him, rumbling across their bond.

_~ She's still worried for Anakin.~_ Obi-Wan tapped across to his master.

_~ Her worry is uncalled for.~_

Obi-Wan had to raise a brow at that. _~ How so?~_

There was a pause from the other end, before what constituted as a heavy sigh from Qui-Gon gave Obi-Wan the mental image of the man perhaps frowning off into the middle distance.

_~ Things aren't as they appear, Padawan. Ahsoka is worried for a future she can no longer guarantee. However, her panic, as of yet, is perhaps needless.~_

~ _Master?_ ~ He didn't like the sound of that. He could almost feel Qui-Gon's aura turning that derisive brow on him.

_~ Whoever they are, if this darksider wished to dispose of us and take the boy... then she would have done so before now. She's had ample opportunities, but has taken none.~_

_Yes_ , Obi-Wan nodded to himself. _Yes_ , that was a possibility, but— _~ Isn't this all a bit bold and reckless, Master? With all due respects, even by your standards it somewhat is. I don't think this is a gamble Ahsoka is comfortable with. Nor his mother, or the Queen for that matter.~_ He omitted the inclusion of his own unease.

_~ You have sensed it before now, surely Obi-Wan. Ahsoka harbours a strong attachment to the boy.~_

Oh yes. He'd known since the night he spent with Anakin. The boy had provided a vivid description of Ahsoka's struggle with consciousness during their initial interactions. Obi-Wan had known when Ahsoka spent the entire day indulging Anakin and calling him out on the supposedly 'odd things' that he did.

He'd known when she watched the boy with frightened eyes, whether he was laying prone on his sleep bed or wide awake and laughing.

In light of that, Obi-Wan cast a heedful eye to the young woman, and watched as her hands gripped and throttled the railing again; felt as worn muscles tightened and wrists cracked under the absentminded strain. Nothing of her in this moment spoke of control. Her eyes darted intermittently between the stands and the front line. Anakin clambered up into his pod, his etiquette droid waddling, retreating back to a forgiving shade as his master faced a rumbling horizon.

Ahsoka's jaw ground, a vein pulsed in her taught cheek.

_~ How could I not? You would have to be as blind as a B'omarr Monk to not see it.~_

Qui-Gon gave no further comment, instead folding his arms and turning his concentration back to the race ahead. Obi-Wan too would have done the same, if it weren't for the pestering awareness that now was the opportune moment to drop another game-changing bombshell on his somewhat too-calm-a-master.

_~ Master, the boy's midichlorian count will be over twenty-thousand.~_

...

Perhaps the manner in which he delivered the line was too calm; Qui-Gon remained silent, before he felt the man begin to shift behind Shmi.

~ _Are you sure? How do you_ — Ahsoka.~

Finally, Obi-Wan spared a glance over his shoulder. To a stranger, or anyone that wasn't overly familiar with Qui-Gon Jinn's subtleties, he looked entirely unperturbed by the revelation. Stoic, even. However, to the familiar eye, Obi-Wan could make out the newfound _glee_ in Master Qui-Gon's eye and that faint curl at the corner of his lined lips; it wouldn't be long until that burgeoning smile was fully fledged.

_~ Yes, Master. She disclosed a few truths in her panic.~_ He didn't want to leave Qui-Gon with the urge to ask questions — that'd have to wait for a more sensible point in time. _~But Anakin; she's worried for his safety. Would it not make sense_ — _.~_

_~ We cannot intervene, Obi-Wan. At this stage, our fate is in Anakin's hands; and the Living Force by extension. Have faith in the boy, Obi-Wan. Something tells me he won't disappoint.~_

Obi-Wan dipped his head, fighting the urge to press his lips together. It hadn't been an admonishment, but Qui-Gon's tone brought to mind a gawky fifteen-year-old receiving another lecture on his outspoken temperament.

When he sensed the kinder note reach for him, he found himself in the attempts to brush his padawan braid from reach.

_~ Focusing on your anxieties at a time like now?~_ A tug to the length of hair, either way. _~Perhaps you should try and convince Ahsoka to not agitate the entire crowd. I don't know about you, Padawan, but I'd very much like to walk away from here today without a migraine that little meditation will chase away.~_

Qui-Gon didn't wait for his response, neither needing one or seeking it, as he retreated back to his own mental space. Perhaps it was the standard ten second countdown to the beginning of the race that prompted him to do so. Obi-Wan slipped forward as the final three seconds sounded. Torquing pod engines roared into the midday peace. A turbulent crowd jeered. Ahsoka Tano stood to his side, neglecting her shields as she played Corellian chicken with the side of Anakin's flight helmet.

Obi-Wan sighed.

It wouldn't be long before Shmi and the Queen were feeling the effects of Ahsoka's unease.

Then it'd be the entire stadium, with their luck.

... He really did wish Anakin hadn't stalled, because on top of Ahsoka's jump and involuntary attack at his shields, he felt his own heart quicken. Those few short moments that Anakin painstakingly fumbled with his flooded engines felt like hours. Maybe it was childish, but he had spent the entire day previous rewiring the circuitry to that blasted pod. If it didn't work _now..._

Everyone on the viewing platform breathed a sigh of relief as Anakin slipped off the starting line, barrelling away in hot pursuit of first place.

_Force._

* * *

_Sleemo!_

Another world-shattering bump from… _Quadinaros, right?_ … sent Anakin diving for the controls that'd jostled loose from his hands. Gods… He didn't know what it was, but—

**_Kriff!_ **

A foot slammed down on the brakes, hands pulling hard on battered steering yokes he'd just finished welding _yesterday…_

Anakin barely managed to stop his forehead from smashing against the dash as the bottom of his chassis connected with, then screamed against the valley's face... They'd made it to Frinback's Canyon _already?_

_Shavit._

Sparks streamed from the bottom of his racer, hot and angry as he surfed along the rugged curve of the canyon wall. One hand flipped his flight goggles back into place, another tugged on the yokes — and Anakin veered back into the race once more. _Gods…_ Where was he? Oh, right. Yeah, he didn't know what it was today, but maybe Sebulba had painted a big, red target on his back, and that's why everyone else thought it'd be fun to play rag dolls with his pod.

Great.

To be honest, there shouldn't be any target on his back. When Sebulba had waddled over to deliver the customary insult before the race, Ahsoka had interrupted any snub he might've had prepared. Both racers turned to find her reclined against the curve of Anakin's chassis. If Sebulba possessed the nerve to drag them both through the dirt, then Jedi possessed the best timing. Anakin had almost giggled when Obi-Wan appeared from beneath the starboard engine. He didn't look overly impressed, making a point of flashing the laser sword at his hip. Ahsoka grinned, something devilish residing in the pointed ends of her lips and teeth. Sebulba took one look at Obi-Wan's hip, Ahsoka's smirk and Anakin's beaming, and he was off. Of course, not even the Jedi could stop the obligatory ' _sleemo'_ from slipping past Anakin's lips as Sebulba slid past.

"Give 'em an inch, they'll take it." Ahsoka grumbled as he jogged back to their sides.

"What does that mean?"

Something glowed behind her eyes, not dissimilar to the burn of the midday suns. However, it was Obi-Wan that answered him. The young man finished connecting the final rope to the eopie as he spoke. "Cheats will always be cheats, Anakin. Double-dealers; charlatans… They prey on any weakness you show."

" _Give 'em an inch…"_ Anakin twisted the corner of his mouth, mulling over the saying. He nodded, deciding it was an apt description of the living-standards here on Tatooine. Cheat, or be cheated. Maybe his mother wouldn't agree, but so far Tatooine hadn't shown a better side (except in his mother, of course. And Old Jira... And Mr Whitesun... And maybe Kiral as well...)

But Sebulba had his chance to cheat stollen by the vigil eyes of his new friends. Or at least, the chance to sabotage his pod (which certainly wouldn't be out-of-the-ordinary). After all, Watto's last pod ended up almost smearing him into the craggy terrain of the narrows. No one believed him that he'd definitely connected the power couplings before starting the race. How much of a _kachu_ do you have to be to not connect _them_ up?

…

Another jolt from Quadinaros threw Anakin out of his thoughts, and ensured that _he_ threw the pod around another steep pylon of rocks. _Kriff._ It wasn't time to panic, not yet at least. He still had one final sabacc card up his sleeve. He just had to shake Quadinaros and Roor, before he could drive up the output levels on his power subsidisers. _Sebulba won't know what hit him._

* * *

"All the times he's bragged about this karking race..."

Well, at least she managed to say something through all that mounting apprehension. Obi-Wan turned to gaze sidelong at her. Still, she stared down the monitor that displayed Anakin's racer as if the screen itself had personally thrown Anakin into the canyon wall.

"I take it Anakin's not one to brag about near-death experiences?"

" _Oh boy_... it depends on what kind of near-death experiences we're talking about. Outmanoeuvring enemy forces at last possible moment? Sure. Slipping on spilt garbage on the lower levels of Coruscant? Avoid bringing it up at all costs."

Obi-Wan felt the edges of his smile grow at that. Despite the fact of learning that nine-year-old boy plastered across the screen would one day become a Jedi (he'd deal with the possible implications of that when they weren't potentially being hunted down by a _Sith._ ), Ahsoka liked to paint the boy in a positive light.

He had questions already, a hundred or so that were itching to be asked. But only one pushed him to the edges of his reason.

If the Force had thrown Ahsoka back thirteen years, to _this_ exact point... what was the purpose? Why now? Why this mission? Why _this_ boy?

Why such the ridiculously high number of midichlorians?

_Twenty-thousand._

_Force._ He himself was in possession of roughly thirteen-thousand. Over twenty-thousand was simply... unheard of. _Not even Master Yoda has a count that high._

What was Qui-Gon thinking? And what did Ahsoka know?

That wall of unease still sat by him, swelling against the edges of his shields. The fact that she hadn't built hers up... He wasn't sure she was conscious of the effect she had. Of course, the sudden crash on screen didn't help her unease at all. _Blast, Anakin. Be careful._

_"I don't care what universe you're from._ _That's_ _gotta hurt!"_

The cam-droids briefly flashed Anakin shaking off another swipe from a rather bulky Toong racer. The boy slipped under the larger engines, pulling a sharp left. The pod rolled out, just rebalancing before Anakin floored it. The announcers thankfully had something positive to say about the move.

That prompted a smile from him. That manoeuvre easily could have gone wrong. Badly wrong. But this nine-year-old handled it with a grace not many children possessed. Force, not many Jedi Masters he knew could handle these turns like Anakin was.

That's where he started to believe Anakin _could_ be in possession of an absurd number of midichlorians.

* * *

"Poodoo!"

Ben Quadinaros swore as Skywalker swept beneath his engines and to the left. He swore again when the little sleemo tipped two fingers in that strange salute. He swore a third time as Skywalker powered off past the sand of Roor's wake.

An alarm protested over the roar of rushing air. He barely glimpsed the display before his power couplings gave up and released his two upper engines.

He didn't see Roor's pod again until it was lodged in his energy binders.

Just ahead, Anakin laughed into the wind as he tore in front. Quadinaros and Roor's crashing pods faded into the distance, and Anakin turned back to his controls. _Right. Just the Shrieking Turns to go before Gerolli's Straight._

He and Obi-Wan worked out yesterday that the prime moment to amplify the output levels was at least two klicks out from the straight. That was the easy part.

Getting past Sebulba and his bantha-headedness would be the hard bit.

With effortless ease, Anakin piloted the racer around another series of sharp turns and pulls at breakneck speed. Again, he allowed that untroubled lull to pull his hands whichever way. He followed the course, just like yesterday, falling into a routine as he tipped the yokes left and right, forward and back.

Easy.

Sebulba's pod resurfaced in the distance, picking up a wake that streamed twenty feet high. Weaving in and out of the turns, Anakin pushed hard on the accelerator.

Something within him asked him to notice the upcoming expanse of flat desert. _Gerolli's Straight._ He was coming up on that two klicks…

Flipping all the toggles on his dash upwards, his engines gave that rolling start before every display gave him the all clear. He cut off the rising power module when it reached its optimal output levels, and then threw everything he had into the engines.

He just wished he'd invested in a pair of ear muffs as Ahsoka and Obi-Wan's modifications kicked in.

_Whoa_ … The chassis gave a violent jerk around him at the sonic boom. _They'd have heard_ that _in the grandstand._

* * *

"Good boy." Qui-Gon murmured as the distant boom washed over the stands.

"Come on, Skyguy." Ahsoka bit her lip. Obi-Wan frowned.

"What was that?" Shmi manage to ask the question in time with the race's compères. She finally tore her gaze away from her son long enough to search their faces.

"Those are the modifications Obi-Wan and Ahsoka made to the engines yesterday." The Queen surprisingly answered for the resident mechanics, and Ahsoka smiled her way. The teenage royal noticed, raising her eyes long enough from the race to return the teasing note in Ahsoka's glance. "The powersubsidisers. They rewired the power output levels. Ahsoka's amazed I remember."

"Glad to see we're makin' an impression, Your Highness." Said togruta smirked, and Obi-Wan breathed a little easier when that wall around her started to give.

"I still think Ani could win the race without them." Padmé turned back to the display before them.

Said youngling now had the cam-droids trained back on him... Or, at least, what they could catch of him. Anakin soared across Gerolli's Straight. His sudden arrival and departure from a stationary cam-droid left the entire frame juddering.

_"What's this? Where has this come from, and why hasn't Skywalker used it before now? I don't know, ladies and gentlemen, but surely Skywalker's had help. I'd like to get ahold of the crew behind that feat of engineering."_

Ahsoka turned away from the whole debacle to hide her face behind the bulk of his robes. Obi-Wan raised both brows, before sharing a strained smile with her. "They'll be hard pressed to find anyone that fits the particular bill they have."

"If they somehow figure it out, just say it's all Anakin's doing."

" _Gods..._ I've never seen him go so fast." Shmi's grip tightened on the monitoring screen she held. Qui-Gon smiled and dropped an affectionate hand to her shoulder.

"He can handle it."

_With a midichlorian count like that... I'm surprised he doesn't do it blindfolded,_ Obi-Wan quipped to himself. 

* * *

See, the problem was, after Gerolli's Straight and the narrows, the course sent its racers back into the grandstand... which meant Frinback's Canyon was somewhere after that. If Anakin didn't widen the gap between him and Sebulba _now,_ then he'd be stuck trying to improvise later on. And as much as he liked improvising, he also liked not being smeared into the side of the canyon. For the previous two laps, he was up against Quadinaros. Quadinaros was mean, but he wasn't mean like Sebulba.

Sebulba didn't think twice about smearing you into a wall, that's for sure.

The current passage was too thin to use his modifications. It was just enough to put him in a lead against Sebulba, but not enough to ensure that lead.

Anakin pulled back on the yokes, wincing as the engines choked back. He slowed just as the sliver in the rock face ahead became a sizeable hole.

Sebulba's engines gunned behind him, earth-pounding and unforgiving as they revved closer and closer.

_Gods._

Maybe he'd have to improvise here as well.

By the time they were neck and neck, Anakin was grounding his jaw. If the worse he received from Sebulba's relentless bashing was whiplash, then there were gods. Wrestling against Sebulba's pod, Anakin mowed down a line of service lights. Sebulba tried slicing into his port engine with an exhaust rudder.

_Kriff._

There was nothing he could do about the service ramp. Nor the sudden thirty-foot drop below him.

Well, except maybe _this_ of course.

* * *

"Amazing! A controlled thrust and he's back on course! What a move. Ladies and gents, what we've seen here today from Skywalker... If he doesn't win, he sure has gained a reputation for himself. Look at that _riri wompa_ go!"

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Obi-Wan translated the Huttese, and grinned regardless of the harrowing display on screen. Sebulba powered down on Anakin's smaller pod through the narrows, despite the reclaimed lead.

The boy was easy pickings for the larger, power-driven pod. His only hope was his smaller frame, lighter and more agile.

They'd learned yesterday that using the modifications to his engines was impossible in the tight turns of the narrows. Anakin couldn't drive up the power outputs again until they were out.

_Come on, Anakin._

* * *

"Come on, _come on!"_

Anakin felt the spittle fly against his own lips. He could see the teasing strip of blue sky and flat plains ahead.

He could also hear the heavy bass and rumble of Sebulba's pounding engines from behind.

**_Whack!_ **

_"Kachu!"_ Anakin swore, but he doubt Sebulba heard as the dug buffeted his pod again. The blue and white paint scraped away from his rear. Sebulba pummelled into side this time… then locked. _No._

Their racers caught. A deafening screech from their jostling engines brought the smell of burning metal. A power coupling on his starboard side rattled threateningly.

" _Please..."_ He murmured, not quite sure who are what he was pleading with as he gave the controls a desperate yank. The pressure was tremendous. The canyon walls were closing in.

...

Something snapped. Something hissed. Anakin blinked.

He heard Sebulba curse as their engines unhooked. Anakin blinked again, not quite sure what he was witnessing as Sebulba's pod virtually untangled itself from his. An exhaust rudder slid out from its incision to his port engine. The titanium rods like claws along Sebulba's engine bent backwards, pealing away from his own as if the air itself was twisting and prising them back.

A brief moment where both pilots locked eyes in disbelief.

... Before Anakin burst ahead, ramming up his power outputs once more. He tore out of the narrows, soaring away.

He never saw as the wake of his discharge left Sebulba flounder for his controls... nor as the larger pod smeared into the craggy terrain of the narrows below. A fire-ball launched a blackened pilot from the carnage, scathed but alive for the most part.

A nine-year-old boy plummeted across the finish line, barely remembering to ease off.

The podracer came to a shuddering, exhausted stop. It hissed and fizzed from the abuse.

Anakin breathed in, out... _stood._ Yes, he could do that still. He hadn't lost a limb or anything... No, no — everything was still all accounted for. Always good.

He stood; planted unsteady feet; and yanked the helmet from his head. A clear-cut blue gave way to washed orange as his flight goggles fell away.

... Gods, had he won?

"Ani!"

Kitster.

"Ani! You did it!"

Really?

_"Skywalker!"_

He pulled something in his neck, surely, when he twisted around. The sight that met him almost sent him over the side of his pod. _Stars._

A horde of people rushed towards him, their faces a mix of joy and tribal exhilaration as they pounded across the sand. Thrumming bodies encircled his pod, clammy hands grappled at his tunic.

Was Kitster beside him?

"Ani, you won! You did it! Wahoo!"

Those frail arms flung around him, deceptive with their strength as they throttled him. Anakin grinned. The wave of realisation was now an incoming tsunami.

"Really? I mean, yeah! 'Course I did!"

As Kitster let him go, he took in the sea of faces all smiling and chanting his name. Hands still reached for him; he smiled and raised his arms. But… "What happened to Sebulba? He was right behind me…"

"Didn't you see?" Kitster chastised. "You completely totalled him! Whatever you and your Jedi did to your engines, they're totally lethal."

"Anakin!"

_Mister Qui-Gon?_

Through the growing crowd, he could just make out the tower of Jedi Master making his way towards him. Anakin grinned as two colossal arms heaved him from the pod. Up into the air, Anakin punched the sky. Wow, he could see the hangar from up here.

"Did you see, Mister Qui-Gon? I did it! I did it!"

"Yes, Anakin. You were superb."

He found a perch on the broad expanse of Qui-Gon's right shoulder, hitching himself side-to-side until he was comfortable. A hand came to encircle his legs, keeping him balanced as he waved to the crowds that groped at his ankles. "This is so wizard!"

"Anakin!"

_Padmé!_

Every other thought died away when she appeared. "Hey, Padmé! I did it! I won!"

"Yes, Ani. You did."

Anakin liked her teeth, he decided. Especially when he could see every single one of them in her smile.

_"Ani?"_

"Mom! Did you see? I won! I did it!"

His mother clamped her hands together, her smile contagious as Qui-Gon bounced him up and down. "Yeah! Woo!"

He did it. He'd won.

The Jedi and Padmé could leave now. They had their winnings. They were free to go. They would be gone soon…

Anakin felt his arms fall somewhat at that, despite the tremendous moment.


	26. A Change of Fate

Anakin sat tall and proud on Qui-Gon's shoulders. A sea of spectators battled for breathing space as they cheered on his success. The sheer force of their noise could be heard in the next valley over, surely. Behind Master Qui-Gon, Shmi and Padmé joined the amassing crowd, clapping and grinning their joy.

Ahsoka slowed her feet in the sand, lingering at the edge of the collective chaos. He did it. _He did it._

A small part of her congratulated herself on not having charged off the platform and straight to her master, and that she hadn't swept him up herself, and planted him on her own shoulders. (Of course, weight might have been a deterrent.) Another part of her, a more sensible side that was still locked onto the crowds searching for an unfriendly face kept her grounded.

She wouldn't lie. Throughout that... _okay_ , it had to have been only ten minutes, but like the cliche, it felt like hours. Throughout the ten minute stint, she kept expecting Anakin to disappear round a rocky, ancient corner from the cam-droids, and simply never reappear the other side. It was stupid, foolish even. But still… something sat poorly in the Force.

Of course, all that worry grew tenfold when Anakin started to crash about like a rag doll between the much larger podracers. Then her head was pounding, so loud she wondered if Obi-Wan would start berating her on her thrashing heart. His side glances more than certainly suggested he wanted to.

But no, Anakin did it.

Anakin had won.

_Force, Skyguy._

The flow of people still steadily growing, she became aware of the hammering bodies slamming into hers as they rushed past. When one particular shoulder knocked her forward, it thankfully knocked her from her thoughts. Gone was the recollected yellow gaze of a dangerous stranger, and instead the vivid blue of Anakin's sucked her forward.

"Ahsoka! Ahsoka! Did you see that? That was amazing!"

Beating her to the mark, Anakin shouted what should have been her line. Ahsoka smiled. Moving the crowd in her favour required a bit of concentration, but they soon parted at the unspoken suggestion and she was delivered to Qui-Gon's side. Her toes curled in her boots, and her lekku and montrals blushed a deep shade of purple. She was sure her smile was delirious.

"How does it feel to be a hero, Skyguy?"

"Wahoo!" Anakin swung his arms in the air; she didn't know if it was at her compliment, or just part of the general over-excitement. Qui-Gon frowned, but smiled regardless when hapless, dirty fingers snagged in his hair on their way up.

Anakin's discerning blue eyes picked out yet another familiar face he was eager to yell at. "Did you see that last lap, Obi-Wan?" At the sound of her grandmaster's name, Ahsoka twisted her head and found him shouldering his way over. Her rejoice only grew when that genuine smile settled in the creases of Obi-Wan's cheeks, and his dimples flashed for all to see. "It was just like that race on Malastare you told me about! He was in front and everything! And then I— whoo!"

Anakin's shouting had prompted a defensive hand to Obi-Wan's ears, and Master Qui-Gon perhaps also had had enough of the over-exuberant child above him. Legs replaced a head as Anakin tumbled backwards over Qui-Gon's shoulders. But before he could plummet too far, large hands like bed slats scooped him up and turned him around. Anakin planted two unsteady feet on level ground, feeling that heavy bed slat hand pat his shoulder. " _Whoa…"_

With a single shake, the rolling marble in his head was gone.

"Mom!"

Shmi crashed to the ground, her knees hitting the sand with an audible _thump!_ as she scooped her boy up and into her arms. Anakin threw two urgent arms around her neck. Next on the pile was Padmé, half tackling the youngling and his mother.

"Mom, I did it." He slurred into her neck, his cheeks squished by the bulk of her shoulder.

"Yes you did, my son. It is wonderful, Ani. You have given hope to those who have none. I'm so very proud of you..."

"You have saved us, Ani. We owe you everything."

Anakin hummed as Padmé tightened her hug. And then she was gone. And his mother as well (but not without the all-essential volley of kissing to his cheek). Anakin was left staring at Ahsoka Tano, who'd stepped up behind his mother.

**_Oof!_ **

Ahsoka barely caught the boy as he barrelled head first into her middle. Her arms dangled limply in shock above by her sides, before she brought them down to settle around him. Her knees clicked as she sunk down to her haunches. Anakin allowed the movement, before he decided to squeeze the breath from her. Ahsoka didn't mind. She pulled him too, breathing in the desert on his tunics. The load of sandy-blond hair tickled her cheek.

"Thanks, Skyguy."

"Anytime, 'Soka."

Like this morning, she loathed to let him go. But again, he left her embrace. This time, instead of his mother, a hollering crowd tugged him from her arms. She watched as they lifted the boy and paraded him away on their shoulders. Ahsoka smiled. _Give him his moment._

It only took a few seconds for the crowd to disappear around the corner ahead, taking their hero with them. Ahsoka eased herself up from the sand. Now staggeringly empty, it seemed odd that the quiet of the area had ever been disturbed. The stands had emptied; a cleaner went about walking the isles, collecting the mishmash of rubbish the large crowd had generated. She watched the apathetic stabbing motions the Gran made, before her gaze went elsewhere. A few lingering parties paid off bets, storming away swindled or guffawing in their greed.

Which reminded her. They had a deal to settle.

* * *

"You! You swindled me!"

A jubilant local pranced past them, counting her winnings as she went. Ahsoka and Obi-Wan waited by the crumbling archway before they could follow in behind Qui-Gon. A sour Toydarian palmed his near-empty pockets bitterly infront of the backdrop of vast desert and ancient rock valleys. That mad eye trained in on the Jedi who dared walk in now. "You knew the boy was going to win! Somehow, you knew. I lost everything."

Ahsoka raised a brow at the blatant heartbroken expression the Toydarian tried adopting. _Is he serious? He's gonna try and pull that card._ She snorted. _Gallons of tea versus greedy junk-dealer._

As she safely assumed, Qui-Gon simply smiled. A hand came up to run down the coarse beard at his chin. "Whenever you gamble, my friend, you'll eventually lose."

The Toydarian was again in Qui-Gon's face, breath heavy and hot and _foul._ A chipped nail prodded with vicious intent, catching in a loose thread from the rough material of Qui-Gon's poncho. Qui-Gon sighed, and shook his head. Watto didn't like that one bit, if his curling lips and thrashing wings said anything

"Bring the parts to the main hangar. I'll come by your shop later so you can release the boy."

"You can't have him!"

Ahsoka felt the heat at her furrowed brows. Obi-Wan stopped her outburst with a quick, quiet hand, and she peered down as her middle came up against with the steadying palm. Looking to her left gave her a generous scope of the familiar quiet caution in those grey eyes. His subtle head shake saw her retreat backwards with a bit tongue and clenched jaw. Thankfully, Watto failed to notice. He was too busy wasting their time. Like some sort of wannabe crime boss, he slinked over to the parapet and made a show of dusting off any offending dregs of sand from the low-lying wall (as if they weren't standing in a desert). Ahsoka rolled her eyes. _That could take some time._ Time, they simply didn't have.

It wasn't just Watto and his surly disposition that put her on edge. Something was still _wrong._ The Force breathed a cool warning down her neck. If Anakin's victory gave her anything, it was a small reprieve from the constant bombardment.

But it hadn't chased it away for good. It came prowling back, creeping and crawling like an old foe.

"… unfair bet! It'll cost you more." Watto barked.

"Would you like to discuss it with the Hutts? I'm sure they could settle this." Qui-Gon deadpanned back.

The sudden mention of the Hutts instilled a flash of panic in Watto's eyes. The mention of the actual crime-lords thankfully forced him to drop the underworld-crime-boss charade, and the Toydarian buzzed back in shock. Feeble arms shook in defeat. "No, no! I want no more of your tricks! Take him."

_Thank you. Finally._

* * *

"Ahsoka? Could I have the— thank you."

He didn't like the fact that he almost had to dive out of the way of the spanner she threw _at_ him. But nevertheless, she was content to stand to the side with Anakin's toolbox while he himself gave a once over on the mythical hyperdrive generator they'd spent the last week fighting for. On first glance, everything seemed fine. Well, the generator seemed fine… _Ahsoka_ however. For the past half-hour, she glared at the hangar around her as if everyone inside could possibly be held accountable for her mounting headache. Thankfully, her shielding had made a much anticipated return. He could work in peace if he simply didn't look at her curdling expression.

_Blast._

He wanted to ask what was wrong, but thought better of it every time. He wasn't sure what was bothering her. They'd bargained Anakin's freedom. The boy _was_ coming with them to Coruscant. The mission was thankfully back on track; within a week they'd be back within the bustling hub of the Galactic Senate.

Perhaps the Force whispered something to its chosen champion, neglecting to inform the rest of her users.

When he finally caught Ahsoka's eye just over the top of the generator (which only incidentally looked like he was hiding behind), something mellowed in that raging blue. A beaten smile turned in his favour. "I'm sorry, Ma— Obi-Wan." She expelled a breath, her chest falling. "I know you have a million questions. _I would too_ , but…"

He took in the sight of her now, as new-found habit would have him do, and felt a wave of sympathy well up inside him. _Gosh_ , perhaps Qui-Gon was right. He did tend to take pity on the distressed teens they often found in their care. Ahsoka was no exception, it seemed.

Obi-Wan looked back to the converter gauge he was prepping. "Maybe I can ask them once we're safely off this blasted planet," His eyes roamed the interior of the hangar, distaste rolling off him. Just to prove a point, he dusted some more obligatory sand from the generator. His grey eyes settled back on her, and when he saw the bright flicker in her simmering gaze, he waved the spanner at her. "And when you don't look like you're prepared to take on the entire Trade Federation singlehandedly."

He was grateful when she smiled. A few moments ticked by that he filled by trying to coax the display module to life. A gentle question from between the exchange belts lifted his gaze. "What would you say my odds are?"

No hesitation. He inclined an earnest brow, and paused his work. "After calling off the invasion, the Viceroy would make a very serious bid to the Senate, stating that he has, in fact, got the wrong address."

Ahsoka downright snorted. Some part of him warmed at that.

The display module gave a happy chirp, mustering a smile from him… until he read the Huttese now flashing across the screen in vivid colours. _What in the blazes?_ Why was a Nubian hyperdrive generator spitting Huttese at— _never mind._ He could look into the menu options for that later on. Right now, he needed to finish the once over and prep the hulking piece of machinery for transport.

Anakin and Qui-Gon should be back soon with the eopies.

The sooner they were off this force-forsaken rock, the better.

Once Qui-Gon arrived, Ahsoka seemed to return to her sullen state. He didn't need to point out the obvious to his master. Clouded eyes and fortified shielding spoke for themselves. Anakin scurried around them, kicking up the sand underfoot as he made visible circles around the hyperdrive generator.

"Wizard! You gonna hook this up? I wish I could see you do it. Apparently, you gotta be careful with the transistor on the main converter. I hear the gauge is a bit faulty on some models. You could flood your hyperdrive halfway between..."

Obi-Wan took in a breath, willing the boy to do the same as Anakin's sentences began to run together. He spared a glance to Qui-Gon who lingered with a eopie, stuck trying to still the creature's swaying. Once the lumbering beast settled and the mewling ceased, Obi-Wan found himself wondering if Force suggestion might work on Anakin too.

"Anakin, could you gather the cables off our friend there," Obi-Wan gestured to the second animal. Anakin followed his gaze, and nodded. "We'll need to get this all disassembled before we can load it up."

"Ah-hu. Sure."

"Here, Anakin. Let me help you." Ahsoka offered.

Her sudden departure meant Obi-Wan now had the mental space to ask the few questions he could ask. Qui-Gon stood to the side, arms folded before him with tan boots planted in the sand. His forehead furrowed as he studied the scene he was faced with. An estranged padawan learner floated down a series of cables and ropes from a moving saddle, and a nine-year-old boy watched the scene with wide, awe-struck eyes. "Wizard, 'Soka!"

That half-smile given with effort appeared again, barely there before she'd dumped the coils in Anakin's awaiting arms.

 _~ You haven't told him yet?~_ Obi-Wan interrupted his musings. Qui-Gon turned away with a start.

_~ Not yet, Obi-Wan. I was waiting for the opportune moment.~_

_~ You might have to hurry up with that. Looks like you've got competition in Ahsoka.~_

Obi-Wan was more than familiar with the smile that breathed across the bond. _~ My insolent padawan. Sometimes I think I allow you to get away with too much.~_

_~ You wouldn't have it any other way, Master. Besides, what would you do without me? Missions would be as mundane as senate meetings.~_

_~ Just get the hyperdrive generator to the ship, Obi-Wan. I have one last house call to make.~_

_~ Yes, Master.~_

As Obi-Wan dutifully resumed his task, Qui-Gon stepped away. Pausing, his chest swelled with a lungful of stale air, before it was passing heavily through his nose with an audible huff. To be precise, he had two tasks that needed doing before they could move on from this length of their journey. He was eager to be rid of the unending horizons of yellow and the omnipotent sand that somehow managed to work into every ounce of tunic and hair he had. And it wasn't just the sand and wasted time that was pushing his patience.

Ahsoka wasn't the only one who could sense the change. The Living Force coiled in strained waves around him; something was to happen, and they didn't have much time remaining.

Time was essentially of the essence, especially if he wanted to pull off what he had planned next without any lasting repercussions.

With that in mind, Qui-Gon homed in on the next immediate task at hand — lessen Ahsoka Tano's unease before she burned a hole in her own shields. The last thing he needed right now was her unfocused.

_"Hey, watch out with those cable ends, Skyguy. They're sharp."_

Anakin's nose crinkled, but he muttered an apology to the Jedi padawan. Ahsoka shook her head and a single wave of her fingers brought all his heavy cables to settle by Obi-Wan's feet. Again, Anakin watched with wide eyes. " _Wizard..."_

 _"_ Anakin. I need you to accompany me back to your mother's." Qui-Gon stepped towards them.

"Yeah, sure." Anakin abandoned the last rope he held, knowing full-well Ahsoka could handle the rest, before he was hopping over the runs of cable to Qui-Gon's side.

"This belongs to you, and your mother." Outwardly, it appeared Qui-Gon had pulled the horde of credits from thin air. It would certainly fit in with the whole Jedi mysticism.

Anakin's eyes glazed over, willing his brain to count the seemingly unending amount of chips. It was impossible; his mouth hung open again. " _Wow..._ There must be at least-"

"Three hundred credits. I hope it's enough to repay you and your mother's hospitality."

The corners of Anakin's mouth curled until he was beaming. "And buy us a new home. This is wizard. Mom's gonna love this."

Qui-Gon returned the smile, before he was patting the boy's shoulder. He tucked the credits into dirty hands, and passed an affectionate hand through a messy blond mane. "Go, Ani. Your mother and the Queen will be waiting."

Anakin's feet took off on their own accord. It wasn't until he was about ten paces closer to home, he realised there was a lacking shadow looming over him. "Wait, Mister Qui-Gon?" Said Jedi Master loitered by the hyperdrive generator and Obi-Wan. An encouraging hand waved him on.

"Go, Anakin. I'll be with you shortly."

Anakin's eyes flickered over the scene before him, taking in the three Jedi as they prepped the thing that would take them away. His grip tightened on his credits, and he faked a smile before turning back round again. _Don't leave without saying goodbye, please._

Ahsoka regarded Anakin's hung head and hurrying feet with a stilled tongue. She couldn't stifle the disapproving shake of her head, nor the knowledge that despite the win, things weren't panning out in their favour. Anakin now had his much deserved change of fate, yes, but the same couldn't be said for the other deserving member of their small party. It saw her see-sawing on the verge an unpleasant place.

 _This is why I walked away. Their own teachings bested them in the end. It destroyed Anakin... They were so_ _blind_ _._

"Ahsoka?"

The sound of Master Qui-Gon's gentle tone startled her from her brooding. Clearing the sudden lump in her throat, her head dipped in respect. "Master."

Those deep brown eyes watched her, as if studying the crinkles around her eyes and the disapproving curve of her mouth. She pressed her lips together, and hung her head in something akin to defeat. She'd only known this man little more than a week, yet he read her expressions and movements as if she were his own padawan. Only Anakin or Master Plo were ever this good at making her feel transparent.

A hand fell on her shoulder, gentle but firm as it cupped the slope of her shoulders. "Trust me, young one. I am not as blind to your attachment to Anakin as you might think you have led me to be."

_What?_

Her head snapped back up. Qui-Gon took his time folding his hands back into the length of his sleeves before he raised a brow at her. The pointed scrutiny in his gaze left her recalling the first night she'd spent on Tatooine, and the obvious display this morning. She had the sudden urge to squirm.

"In fact, I have a particular assignment for you that I'd think you'd be quite eager to partake in."

"Master?"

"There is a Rhodian dealer waiting on the corner of the intersection between the cantina and the plaza's alternative entrance. You will give him this," A handful of valid credits emerged from an unseen pocket and pressed into her open palm. "In exchange for a reprogrammed medical droid."

Ahsoka considered him with a muddled mix of bafflement and interest. Those sharp eyes narrowed until her nose wrinkled and mouth sat hesitantly agape. She drew the credits closer to her chest, but never lost his gaze. He could almost see her mind churning, and he suppressed a chuckle at the accusations that would undoubtedly be streaming through her head.

Sure enough, Qui-Gon was right. Ahsoka watched him with an unhealthy amount of skepticism. A _medical droid? What do we need a medical droid for? We already have a physician on board... He's not planning on doing something drastic is he?_ "A medical droid? But why would we need a—"

"It is imperative that you observe caution, Padawan." As her expression changed again, Qui-Gon folded his arms over his chest and ensured something gentler met her perplexed gaze. "Reprogrammed medical droids are outlawed by the Hutts. _Particularly_ this one."

"Why?" She could damn him about now for dancing around his hidden reason.

"Because they are capable of performing surgical procedures that most living, breathing physicians cannot. Particularly those where delicacy and precision are required to remove a potentially problematic object."

 _What in the Sith Hells is he_ — _oh._ Oh.

"To use that phrase my padawan is fond of, _credit drops,_ I believe."

The confusion still plagued her, but now it stemmed from an entirely different matter. Excitement boiled up within her, relief now tangible as she felt the Force sing around her. "But how—? _W_ _hen_ did you—?"

"I trust you didn't think it would take me several days to play a stubborn Toydarian on his own greed, Ahsoka."

 _Of course._ Ahsoka choked on her own laughter. Finally, everything was falling together. The assembled pieces were now offering her a rather generous view of Master Qui-Gon's character. _I wonder how he'd react if I hugged him 'bout now._

"That _won't_ be necessary, Padawan. Just do as I say, and I believe we'll call it even."

"If you don't mind me asking, Master, but is this really playing by the rules?"

Something sparked in Master Jinn's eye, something bright; something almost mischievous. "I would have thought your presence here presented a need for a bit of rule breaking, Ahsoka."

And there was that maverick streak that Anakin spoke of. She dipped her head low, wondering how Master Obi-Wan hadn't inherited this unorthodox nature as she came face-to-face with it so openly. Palming the credits in hand, a conspiratorial smirk met Qui-Gon's. "Of course, Master Jinn. It shall be done right away."

"Good, Ahsoka, but hurry." The heaviness of his tone invited her concern back once more. "I sense there is a ploy— a plot that we shall soon unravel," When his eyes fixed on the middle distance, shrewd and filled with a troubling disquiet, Ahsoka set her jaw. The Force stirred around them before Qui-Gon was removing himself from the middle distance. "And I'm not sure we'll like its outcome."

Ahsoka raised her palms in submission. "No need to tell me twice, Master."

"Good. I'll accompany Anakin back to his mother. I'll have Obi-Wan wait for you by the outskirts of town. We'll all reconvene on board and hopefully be on our way before the suns set."

"Yes, Master."

And with that, Ahsoka turned and aimed towards the blinding light beyond the hangar's many entrances. She couldn't quite stop the skip in her step, even with the understanding that it wasn't very becoming of a Jedi Padawan to literally _prance_ from one place to another. But nevertheless, she hastened her strides towards the far side of the plaza.

Just another hour or so, and they would be on their way. _With_ the two new additions to their steadily growing crew.

* * *

Sure enough, the Rhodian was right where Master Qui-Gon said he would be, watching the trickling crowds with shifty eyes and all but asking for attention. Ahsoka sighed as she hurried over to him, all the while hoping there wasn't some secret code or word she had neglected to ask about.

Thankfully, there was no such thing. She did have to stand in front of him for a good ten seconds though, before he deigned to remove his hands from where they were shoved in his pockets and finally address her.

"You wanted it?"

Great... Her Huttese was more than a bit rusty. "The droid?"

"Yeah... 'd'you bring the dough?"

"Right here," Ahsoka lifted the credits, flashing them subtly before they made their way back into the shadows of her borrowed poncho. Greedy hands tried diving for her side, but nimble feet danced out of reach. "Uh-uh. I see the droid first, then you get your cut."

He understood Basic then, as he slid back from her and snarled. "Wait 'ere."

Her narrowed eyes followed him around a corner, and she tried to pay no heed to the gamorrean guards that caught her eye. A tuft of withering green grew beneath her, and she eyed the plant mindlessly before the Force brushed against her montrals. The Rhodian was coming back.

Two figures rounded the corner this time, one completely concealed by a draping robe and the other now smirking at her. Ahsoka eyed the new comer, noting that the cloak almost entirely hid the mechanical amble of the droid. She looked back to the Rhodian, who made a sudden step towards her.

"Here," _oof!_ He thrusted something heavy into her hands, "You'll need this." With furrowed brows, she pinched the material and threw it out. An identical robe to the one the droid adorned unrolled before her. Understanding, she threw the cloak over herself, her mock seeking of approval not phasing the Rhodian at all.

"You get caught, you don't mention me, got it?"

"Yeah, sure." From her poncho underneath, she retrieved the credits and passed it to a waiting, slimy hand. "Here. Take it."

The credits were gone in a blink of an eye. Chuckling to himself, he began fingering through the sum. "Pleasure doin' business with you."

"Thanks."

Ahsoka turned to her new friend as his dealer strolled away, preoccupied with his pay. Lifting the droid's hood with a careful hand, underneath revealed a battered and beaten med-droid flickering uneven eyes at her. "Hey, buddy." she began softly.

" _Echuta!"_

Right.

Her hand snapped back to her side just as fast as her sudden step back. "Excuse me?"

"Wanni mateesa ku passa!"

It took her a moment to decipher what he'd said, but the garbled words saw her face scrunch. Ignoring the fractured mechanical burr of slurs, Ahsoka rolled her eyes and started back into the open streets of Mos Espa. "Come on, Rusty. I've gotta job for you."

"Boska."

Yeah, it didn't help that the droid's top speed was a panicked stroll. Still, Ahsoka figured that if they took off running, they'd attract someone's attention. And they didn't need that. What they needed was to get to the outskirts of town, find Obi-Wan (or let Obi-Wan find them), and then get back on board ship. Simple.

As they passed through the crowds and plethora of shops, she found herself pushing round open store shutters and dodging the multitude of good-sellers trying to hawk their wares. A permanent eye remained fixed on her companion, and she watched as the droid rambled on so painfully like a droid she wondered why they hadn't been arrested and shackled yet. Once the crowds started to ease off, she found her hand reaching back to take the dented metal of his.

"Come on, Rusty."

It wasn't that wandering eyes were fixing on them... It was just...

Something wasn't right... _still._

She'd hoped in vain that maybe a change of events would alleviate that surging shadow in the Force...

_Be mindful of your surroundings._

Battle-honed senses rushed outwards, sweeping across the small street they stood in and down every nearby alleyway and arcade. Her feet still carried her forward, and a hand remained clamped around the droid's, but she closed her eyes and felt the perimeters around them.

 _Nothing._ Not a trace.

Ahsoka clenched her jaw, her eyes almost dangerous as she resolved to continue the panicked stroll set by the droid. It was calm. Almost too calm.

It wasn't until they stood outside a shut-up goods-stand (somewhere in her mind she recalled it was the deranged jam-lady's stall), that she felt it.

_There._

War-hardened instincts saw her pull for her lightsabers, only to feel that empty tug of the Force at her belt again. _Sithspits._ A lithe body whirled around, and two powerful arms shot up. She saw it immediately.

A blackened probe droid, an image lifted straight from the battlefields of the Clone Wars, pivoted in shock as bared teeth and scrunched markings reflected in its glassy eye.

Outstretched hands fisted. _Crack!_ Metal splintered. Casings contracted inwards with a distinct crunch as machinery groaned in refusal. The probe bleeped in dismay before its red eye flickered dead. Ahsoka finally allowed the suffocated droid to crumble downwards.

She permitted herself a moment to gaze upon the smoking carnage littering the sands. She thought maybe she'd have to still her own breathing and hammering heart, but no. Three years of living in conflict meant her heart never quickened a beat in the face of a mechanical foe.

Blue eyes snapped to the med-droid that had inched closer to her during the fray. "We need to move. Now."

It spluttered out some form of agreement as she clamped a hand down over what constituted for its wrist, and tugged. " _Come on."_

They needed to get to the outskirts now. No, they needed to be at the outskirts fifteen minutes ago. Her movements were fractious but determined as she navigated the crowds and streets. Because she knew exactly who that probe droid belonged to. During the Clone Wars, the presence of such droids usually heralded the arrival of a much darker figure. The trend often dictated that Ventress would appear from the rafters... But Ventress wasn't what she feared now.

A frenzied flash of red and black. Snarling teeth, burning sabers; quick hands _not_ quick enough; a wall of red; booted feet skidding to a stop... a desperate plea never to be answered... _Please._

Darth Maul.

Force, how could she have forgotten?

Ahsoka shook her head.

She couldn't stand round here. It was too open, too vulnerable. She took a handful of cloak, and began dragging the bemoaning med-droid behind her. _Obi-Wan_ was the only thing that sounded through her mind as she took in the sight of the outskirts ahead.


	27. Unwanted Attention

"Easy, easy…"

Obi-Wan wound the rope once more around his hand. His other escaped the length of his sleeves to run down the snagging snout of the eopie, and send yet another suggestion of calm. Those deep eyes met his; a startling, restless black against the sea of stale yellow. Obi-Wan stilled the troubled movements of the sandy head before him, and passed yet another look back into the depths of Mos Espa.

It wasn't that Ahsoka was late.

It was just… that feeling of looming peril. It inched along the edges of his person, bringing the Force to swirl in muted caution. _Elsewhere… Elusive_.

He rocked on his feet when their ride did. The assault on his hip earned yet another round of calming pats. "Shhh… shhh…"

Obi-Wan sent a glance back over his shoulder and towards the glinting speck across the Wastes. Qui-Gon and the others were sure to be arriving at the ship soon. The pilots should have the hyperdrive generator reassembled by now — all he had to do once he was aboard was hook it into the actual system. The Queen's astromech might be good enough to give them a much-needed head start as well. _Anakin will undoubtedly want to pitch in._

Obi-Wan sighed and turned back to the main gateway to Mos Espa. A few rambling drunkards ( _really?_ at this hour?) laughed as they staggered beneath the crumbling archway. Sloshed and delirious, they were soon face down in the sand beneath the gateway, giggling into the dirt. Obi-Wan hid his grimace in the blinding sunlight.

Another pulse from the Force, this time given with silent instructions.

His gaze slipped downward into the clustered streets, sorting through the tightening throngs of people, all the while asking what it was the Force wished for him to see.

_There._

A startled scream in the crowds… then a string of Huttese that didn't deserve to be translated. Obi-Wan frowned further (if it were possible in the light of the twin suns). _What in—_ he watched as the shocked cries culminated into a tripped goods-dealer and a shoved patron. Two more people crashed into the sand, all but thrown there. The crowd emitted the perpetrator, struggling from its numbers, before spitting out yet another. Hand in hand, they charged for the gate. Hand in hand, they pounded towards him.

It was all so fast, he barely had a hand over his lightsaber before the hood was falling off the first. Breathing hard, eyes alight, the hollows of her cheeks flushed and red from the exertion…

" _Master!"_

... If some part of him had been expecting _Ahsoka_... The stranger screamed, her panic reaching him across the rapidly closing distance. Auburn hair caught the sunlight, the wisps of loose, heat-tortured hair a halo around her head. Pale, grey eyes implored him desperately. White markings reminiscent of Togruta heritage lined her face, and plump lips drew back in a grimace. Every one of her features begged him for his recognition, but he couldn't even begin to try and place her. 

Obi-Wan blinked and the stranger was gone. Instead Ahsoka Tano barrelled down on him, hauling a medical droid behind her.

"Obi-Wan!"

He put the momentary lapse down to the pressure of the sweltering heat. "Ahsoka!"

When her hands clasped onto his sleeves and she took a wheezing breath, he steadied her swaying. "What in the blazes—"

A gloved hand shot up to swipe at her running nose. "We need to go. Now."

"Is everything alright? Why do—"

"Obi-Wan?"

He met her eyes. Ahsoka stretched back to her full height with a calming breath. He felt her panic bleed out into the Force around them. "We need to go. He's coming."

" _He?"_

But she was already turning away from him, instead now fussing over the medical droid still obediently behind her. "Come on." When she began dragging it to the eopie, Obi-Wan eased the beast down to its haunches.

" _He_ is coming? Who?"

"Really no time to explain. Not now. We need to reach the others. Come on." The medical droid was deposited onto the rear of the eopie, the creature mewling as if in opposition to the sudden floating object. Ahsoka threw off her cloak and gave it to the wind before mounting the beast in a single, graceful sweep. Shuffling back allowed Obi-Wan to swing up into the mount.

"We need to hurry." she said.

"I'm afraid the top speed of the eopie is at best, a slow dawdle."

 _"Great."_ Her head fell between his shoulders in the tight squeeze of the saddle, but then he felt arms snake around his waist. "Hold on."

The beast gave an almighty yelp when steel-capped boots kicked its sides. Obi-Wan wrestled for the reigns as they took off with a start. "Or we could just do that." he conceded. They could make the Wastes in fifteen minutes at this rate. Ahsoka frowned through the juddering gallop of their chosen form of transport. The ship glinted in the distance beneath the Tatooine skies.

"Ahsoka! It might be unwise of me to ask, but who are we running from?"

"I— " She clenched her jaw, and spared a glance to the back of Master Kenobi's head. Some part of her wondered if he expected it to be local law enforcement, or perhaps even Watto with a big stick. _Darth Maul, Master. He's back._ "We need to get to the others before he does. Padmé's in danger. Force, _all of them_ are."

"What?"

"There was a probe droid tracking me through the plaza, which means he's been trailing us for some time. _Why didn't we pick up on it before?_ "

"A probe droid? Did you dispose of it?"

"Do you think? But the thing is, I know the make, the design... and it really isn't good news for us. He's coming."

"The Sith, you mean. But I thought we established—"

"I know! I know what you saw; what _we_ saw. But this is something different. It's something I can actually pre—" She cut herself off. Force forbid, she almost said it. The churn of her gut wasn't solely just the result of the veering horizon.

"Something you can _predict?"_ Obi-Wan asked from in front. Ahsoka pushed her forehead into the bulk of his shoulder and squeezed her eyes shut.

 _Sith kriffin' hells…_ She expelled a lungful of the desert air. _They need to know._

" _Kark it._ Yes! Darth Maul, Master Obi-Wan. They want the Queen. He'll take her and kill anyone who stands in his way."

"This _Darth Maul_ sounds charming." He griped over the wind.

"No kidding." She muttered beneath her breath, "I didn't think he'd pop up so early in the game." _Damn Anakin and his rubbish story-telling._ "But we need to catch the others before he does."

There was no more questions, no spluttering start or doubt-filled side-glances. Instead, Obi-Wan gave an encouraging kick to the eopie's sides, which in turn earned another bleat before its hooved feet were hammering into the sucking terrain beneath. That horizon was positively convulsing now.

"They'll be slowed down by the midday heat — _blast!_ "

"What is it?" She twisted her fingers into the fabric of his tunics.

"The hyperdrive generator still needs installing." Obi-Wan replied.

"Oh boy... We'll deal with that once we're in orbit. I can help. And Artoo; he's good at rewiring computer systems, so we won't have to do it manually."

"... And I won't ask how you know that."

"Probably for the best."

* * *

Padmé cast an eye over the expanse of the Wastes before her. Their small convoy swaggered through the desert at a leisurely pace, stirring the sand beneath untroubled feet. Padmé grimaced at the far-stretching horizons. The ship was now thankfully bigger than merely a glinting speck in the distance, and she could actually make out Captain Panaka and the security team awaiting their arrival. She knew she wasn't the only one eager to be leaving the planet. Yes, for the obvious sake of the outrage back on Naboo, but... Well, Tatooine wasn't the most hospitable of planets. Master Qui-Gon had folded the poncho over his head to protect from the impending sunburn. Anakin hid in the shadow of his mother, while Shmi defied the sun and stared intrepidly ahead.

Padmé found herself smiling at the two. Two bags swung at the sides of their ride, holding all their worldly possessions. She would be hard pressed to forget the look on those two faces when Qui-Gon broke the news of Anakin's freedom. Then she was given a generous taste of Jinn's love for the dramatics when he waited for the torturous moment Anakin watched his mother with forlorn eyes before adding to a thickening plot.

The older woman was at a loss for words at first, trying to turn down the kindness. Up and away from her work counter, she'd paced the room. Padmé had all but begged her. "My sweet girl, my place is here. Ani's is with you, and Qui-Gon. He is destined for greater things... not me."

"That's not true."

It wasn't until Anakin came trotting back in with two packed bags that Shmi reconsidered. "Mom, it's either we both stay here, or we both go."

So Threepio was delivered to Kitster's door with instructions for completion, and the remaining prize money found a home in Anakin's backpack, along with a change of clothes, his favourite toy-models and a datapad on starship schematics. He made sure to pack his mom's favourite pot plant in her bag, all the while hoping there was no such thing as intergalactic customs on Coruscant.

It had taken two days for Pamdé to devise a plan with Master Qui-Gon. Two days she stewed in a pool of anxiety; would Ani win? Would they have enough winnings to acquire the hyperdrive generator, on top of Ani and his mother? Their _owner_ put a stop to that hope. Where she faced a wave of guilt brought about by their failure to bargain the small family's freedom, Master Jinn continued to wear that blasted smirk until it was grating on her nerves. _"Master Jinn?"_

_"There is no need to worry yet, Your Highness. All hope isn't lost."_

_"Master Jedi, unless of course you're planning on abducting them, there's no way we're getting them off this planet."_

She really didn't like the look in his eye then. _"No..."_

_"Yes."_

_"But— what of the implants? If we—"_

_"Leave that to me, Your Highness. The Toydarian can be played on his greed. If not, there is one more option we can exhaust."_

That last option was now Shmi's only hope of survival, as much as that reality encroached on what was rightfully a wondrous moment. This was their only chance of happiness. And speaking of which, "Have you ever been to the Inner Rim before?" Shmi suddenly asked.

Anakin and his mother now rode beside her, and Padmé met her dark eyes with a smile. "No... This is actually my first time off planet."

Shmi's smile grew, before she raised a hand to gesture at their blinding surroundings. "Well, then I'm sorry your first off-world experience had to be Tatooine. I'm sure it doesn't speak well for the rest of the galaxy."

"Well, my hosts' hospitality has more than made up for any complaints I might have first had." As the moment breathed on, both women were grinning and soon chuckling, enough so that Qui-Gon spared a glance backwards. His own smile set in at the corners of his lips.

"I wish Obi-Wan and Ahsoka would hurry up," The queen voiced, sending a glance over her shoulder perhaps in the hopes of a finding a miracle in the form of two Jedi padawans sashaying up on their own eopie and carrying the cargo that was just as precious now as the hyperdrive generator.

Shmi cast a sympathetic eye over the young queen. "Not to worry, Your Highness. I have faith."

"Yeah, and besides. Watto doesn't expect mom back at the shop until tomorrow morning. That's plenty of time!" Anakin stirred in his mother's lap, but the conversation quietened both women. They both knew there was an element of uncertainty facing Shmi — she was risking a lot by even being here.

If Eirtaé and the medical droid failed...

"You have faith, don't you Mister Qui-Gon?" Anakin leaned forward, reaching out to the pat his eopie's head absently. Qui-Gon shifted in his saddle, peering back to face the rest of their small party. He gave the boy a smile, ready to relay his utmost faith in the Force, until—

_There._

The familiar presence raced through his mind, panicked as it tugged his gaze down into the length of their trail. _What in-_

_~ Master!~_

_~ Obi-Wan?~_

And sure enough, a eopie carrying a dusty, sandy group of three burst out from behind a towering dune of sand. Rocketing madly across the distance, the beast howled both its arrival and distress. The small convoy came to a halt, treading lightly in the sand as a commotion kicked up behind them.

~ _Obi-Wan!~_ Qui-Gon demanded more forcefully, and not a second later was the eopie catching them.

"We need to get to the ship now." The gravity of Obi-Wan's command rocked him.

"We have incoming, and it isn't friendly." Ahsoka finished from behind him. When she met Ahsoka's resolute gaze, Padmé dived into the length of her sleeve for her communicator. All watched as she brought it to her lips.

"Captain?"

The line fizzled for a few painstaking moments, before it burst into life. _"Yes, Your Highness?"_

"Prepare the ship for take off now. We need to leave as soon as we're on board." At that, every eopie was directed back on course, and given a gentle nudge.

 _"Are we in trouble?"_ Panaka's garbled voice carried over the sound of pounding hooves.

"You could say that, Captain. We've attracted some unwanted attention."

And maybe she'd cursed them when she said it aloud, because what sounded much like the roar of a podracer reached her ears. The sound of it echoing through the conclave of mountainous rock they'd just come through sent her heart smashing to the floor of her pelvis. She almost didn't want to turn around.

"Off, now!" Qui-Gon bellowed, and she didn't need to be told twice.

The sand somewhat cushioned her fall, and she could swear one of the Jedi had shoved her from the saddle; she caught the edge of that powerful rush against her hip. Everything went momentarily dark as she tried to find the right way up, before the light burst back across her vision. The sight that met her prompted a tortured scream from her lungs.

A rough hand hauled her up from the bloody sands. Bulging eyes pleaded silently, tongue lolling and copious amounts of blood still pumped from the freshly decapitated head. She'd been riding it a few seconds ago. _A few seconds ago._

Someone dragged her across the sand. Someone shook her hard.

_"...dmé!"_

_Huh?_

"Your Highness, go!" The sheer intensity on Obi-Wan Kenobi's face thrusted her back into the moment, and she sucked in a breath as Kenobi's weapon came to life and caught a blow meant to kill. She tried taking in what was happening around her—

Burning blades of blue and green met and hissed against a blade of red— the Jedi faced an unknown assailant. For a moment, she thought her childhood nightmares were walking. It was all she could comprehend before someone was grabbing her wrist. Looking to her left revealed an eyeful of blue and white patterning and taut muscle. Rigid fingers clamped around her wrist with a newfound vehemence.

" _Ahsoka! Get the queen and the others to safety!"_ Somewhere in the sudden frenzy of angry, clashing lightsabers, Qui-Gon managed to bark a command at her. The once battle-trained Jedi Padawan spared the fight a desperate glance; Obi-Wan dived beneath a swipe that should have cleaved him in two, while Qui-Gon tried swinging in from the right. Maul simply deflected the blow, and came down on Obi-Wan again. Ahsoka grit her teeth before she ripped away her gaze. She had no sabers, no way to hold her own against Maul.

"Come on!" she tightened her grip on Padmé's wrist. Her other hand latched onto Anakin's, whose in turn was clinging to his mother's as if she'd slip from his grip and never be seen again. The sand sucked at their feet, threatening to drag them down into its depths if they didn't keep moving. The ship roared out of its slumber, and Panaka came charging with a wall of security officers to meet them half way.

"Your highness!" Padmé all but fell into his chest when she miscalculated the closing distance between her and her head of security.

"Get them on board! Masters Jinn and Kenobi can handle themselves. We need to take off right now!" Ahsoka snapped and Panaka dipped his head.

"Yes, ma'am." He turned, the Queen once again under his guard. A quick gesture to his team of blaster-wielding men saw them all twist on their heels and start back for the ship. Ahsoka doubled back, watching as the master-padawan duo slipped and parried through the sands against Maul's attack. She again tore her gaze away, scanning the space for a distressed medical-droid... when her feet came to a terrifying stop.

Her montrals itched, her veins set alight and the Force pierced through her skull.

_Left. Now!_

She twisted, planting her feet and throwing her arms out with a monumental wrench on the Force. A rippling projectile of black split the sky, careening across the desert towards them. Ahsoka blanched, not quite believing what she saw. Nevertheless, split-second instincts ensured the assailant failed to reach its target. Ahsoka felt for the air just _so..._ and pulled. Hurtling off course, it soared over Padmé and Captain Panaka, before thumping into the sand. Limbs extended from a streamline form, bringing the ungainly roll to a graceful stop.

Ahsoka fixed her feet into the sand, feeling the leather of her gloves crack under her tightening fists.

The black mass of cloth now moved — only now, as it unfolded to an intimidating height. Curved hips disappeared beneath an abundant robe, and slim hands snaked out from oversized sleeves. A head smoothly inclined in thought.

_This is not good._

Ahsoka cast her eye to Anakin, who stood cradled in his mother's arms. Fear blazed in his wide eyes, so Ahsoka gave the only reassurance she could in the given space of two seconds. She nodded. _It's okay, Skyguy._

Ahsoka furrowed her brows and blew out a breath, willing the Force to strengthen every length of muscle in her body.

She wouldn't let it happen. She'd seen the vision and knew the outcome; Tatooine would freeze over and steal her last breath before she'd give Anakin away.

A battle raged on not thirty metres away, lightsabers whirling and bashing with vicious intent. Some part of her wondered if they'd seen the new threat. The spluttered hissing and zapping provided a chaotic backdrop to their face off. Ahsoka turned a discerning eye over their adversary, beginning a mental map of possible ways out of this.

The outlook wasn't overwhelmingly shining in her favour.

"Captain, if you're gonna take the Queen onboard, _now_ would be great. Thanks."


	28. Sith vs Jedi

_"Captain, if you're gonna take the Queen onboard,_ now _would be great. Thanks."_

As she unfolded herself into a line of defensive limbs, Ahsoka latched onto the glare of... whoever this was. Lifted straight from her visions, the figure shrouded herself in an obscure Darkness — Ahsoka tried locking onto the presence in the Force, but came up short when the an unstable aura slipped through her senses, like smoke through fingers.

_What are you?_

In her peripheral vision, the Nubian party were making a break for the ship, ushering along their Queen and sudden wards behind a protective wall of loaded blasters. When that unseen head angled towards the retreating group, Ahsoka seethed.

"Hey!" A shadowed, sweeping hood snapped back to her. "Why don't you pick on someone your own size?"

Technically speaking, they were the same height once you took into account Ahsoka's montrals. But she couldn't make out any other distinguishing features, except for the telltale signs of a concealed femininity. When she tried to bring to mind the vision from a few nights previous, she could recall the faded grey and wild yellow of mercurial eyes.

The savage thrashing of a lightsaber battle punctuated the air, and Ahsoka began to tread sideways, never relenting her gaze. Maybe she hoped on luring the woman into circling, just long enough for the crew's escape. She couldn't attack; she was unarmed. Perhaps against an unarmed opponent she had a chance, but not here. Not against this. Her only hope was to draw her foe into the skirmish to their left.

All that hope came crashing down when a blaring red ignited with a turbulent shudder, crackling with unrestrained power.

Ahsoka moved. The Force slid around her like a fortified wall, hurtling her forwards... but she was too late. She watched as one of the retreating party tripped, and was sucked backwards with such a force, it was a miracle her back didn't snap.

_"Mom!"_

_"Shmi!"_

Held aloft by a single, squeezing hand around her neck, Shmi Skywalker tracked her assaulter with reddening eyes. She clawed and scrabbled at the slender hand that tightened, begging the Gods for mercy as she met the manic yellow beneath the hood. _Not now. Not after all this. Not in front of Anakin. Please._

The burning blade drew back, and punched forward. Shmi scrunched. The impact, she expected, would be a scorching heat, unbearable. She flinched when the blow left her winded— She flinched again when that terrifying laser descended downwards. _Now_ she screamed as it tore into flesh.

The cool caress of wind folded around her, incasing her in its gentle flow before she met the ground. Her head slammed hard into the sand, but grappling hands were soon at her sides.

"Mom! Mom, you're okay."

" _Captain! Get them inside."_

Padmé paused to watch the scene unfold, marvelling at Shmi Skywalker's narrow escape. She watched as Death loomed as a phantom here on the plains of Tatooine, but Light rose to meet it in the form of Ahsoka Tano. A miracle came when the furious blade slid back into its holster just as the wielder rammed it forward. It had winded Shmi, but didn't kill.

Ahsoka Tano threw down both hands, the blade retracting. It was enough to save Shmi, but a second attempt, fuelled by frustration, proved harder; more determination from the blade's wielder meant the angle was harder to control. It tore through flesh and down a shoulder... but didn't kill.

Ahsoka had blinked in horror, before she'd summoned a blow that threw Shmi from her attacker's grasp. She watched as the older woman tumbled back towards the awaiting crew with her life.

She didn't have time to watch them collect her — instead she threw herself forward, leaping over the stranger and twisting overhead. A well-timed kick delivered her flat to the sand, but if Ahsoka thought she could take advantage of the upper hand, it was short-lived. An angered gurgle saw her foot ripped out from beneath her. A looming mass of black now towered over her, blocking the twin suns.

Ahsoka rolled away, thanking the Force that there wasn't a lightsaber in her chest in those few short moments.

A tug on the Force, something she couldn't counter, hauled her backwards. Up from the sand, then twisting in mid air, she now hung in place of Shmi. A hand flattened her windpipe, and long fingers danced on the underside of her jaw. Ahsoka's boots scrabbled for the ground, only stirring the sand in painful, teasing rivulets. Rounded lips curled back into a snarl beneath the hood, and through the haze, Ahsoka took in the ghostly coral hue of the Sith's complexion—

—who gave a sudden hiss. "You don't know what you're doing, Master." 

... Ahsoka flinched, hearing a familiar accent growl at her. It must have been the pressure in her head, but that was almost — she could almost hear... 

"If you love him, you'll let him go." The fingers crushing her windpipe eased, and was the Force rising up to alleviate the pressure from under her? Ahsoka tried shaking her head. 

Her fading line of sight delivered her gaze downwards... until she caught sight of something glinting beneath the copious folds of sand-blasted black. Ahsoka's eyes grew wide with disbelief. _No way..._

She kicked. So hard, she caught the underside of a proud chin. Flipping backwards sent her down to the sands in a crouch. _Plan A, scratched. Plan B, improvise._

A hand shot out before the Sith could regather herself. Flexing fingers sent the Force probing around a slim waist, before a single cylindrical object unclipped and shot across the space between.

Ahsoka snatched it from the air. She thumbed the switch.

The borrowed saber came to life with a startled burst of green. _Huh_ _?!_

There was no time to question the colour, nor the connotations, as an enraged howl left her adversary. She brought the blade up just in time to deflect a blow meant to sever limbs, before she slid herself between ajar legs. Leaping up and away, Ahsoka brought the saber down into the defensive forms of Soresu.

It was recognised immediately... And she wasn't imagining the satisfied smirk beneath the hood. The red saber circled at a shifting side, before it was brought up and over the shoulder. Two fingers extended her way, and Ahsoka blanched. That stance brought a whole array of things to mind.

The weight of a lightsaber pressed to her palm calmed her to some extent, despite the accusations of _foreign_ that the crystal bled into her. With a flicker of the eyes, she took in the lines and slopes until a sense of unsettling familiarity crept over her.

She knew the design.

The red blade began pivoting towards her, moving at impossible speeds. Ahsoka fell left and brought her saber up. It caught the edge of its sister blade, before sliding off and into the sand. Nimble feet brought her upright with effortless ease, leaving her to block a sudden lunge.

A series of thrusts and stabs had her evading. A fluid rebuff progressed into an attack, cutting down her next swing with a skilful deftness. It was the innate flow from one attack to another that threw Ahsoka off. Those movements; the choice of forms... _that sloppiness_ hiding a clearly polished finesse. She could almost place the development of the attack to another face. A swing here culminated into a bodily spin there, and a controlled assault from Form V ended in a barrage of lively flips from Form IV. The groundwork here reminded her of someone else. Someone she knew all too well.

A sudden jab to her unprotected side singed through cloth. She hadn't evaded fast enough and lacked the barrier of her shorter shoto.

Ahsoka crumpled at the pain, finding herself on her rear as the throbbing set in. _Sith kriffin' hells!_

_Up! Now!_

At the sudden gust through her head, Ahsoka was stretching screaming muscle and summersaulting backwards.

When the feat of acrobatics delivered her to wavering feet, she bit against the pain and narrowed her eyes.

A blanket of desert filled her gaze. _What?_

_"Nargh!"_

Twisting around, Ahsoka just managed to take in the frantic clash before her. Obi-Wan threw off Darth Maul, launching him backwards with a vehemence that shocked her — until she saw what drove the atypical act.

Doubled over and clutching his side, Qui-Gon had sunk heavily to his knees in the sand. His lightsaber skittered away, and all three Jedi realised the inevitable with a choked breath. A furious line of red swung towards him. There wasn't enough time to call the saber back and deflect the next blow.

_"No!"_

Both padawans threw themselves across the distance, lightsabers blaring, but it was Obi-Wan who caught the killing strike. Again, that out-of-character storm in Kenobi's movements now fended off the stranger.

Fuming grey met a teasing gold.

A sweeping bow was offered to him. Slow and dignified, the gesture spoke of a refined grace; that perhaps they should be sparing in the Temple's Sola Room, rather than on the desolate plains of Tatooine. Obi-Wan waited for her to take position, as if catching himself now observing the rules of formal combat, before he lunged.

Meanwhile, Ahsoka found herself sliding along the sizzling edge of Maul's saber. Staring into the manic yellow of his eyes was probably not the best idea, but she couldn't help herself. She found herself caught in a haze of patchy memories. She'd never encountered him herself, but she had been subject to the ripples and repercussions his presence had on those around her. She'd sat through an entire afternoon in the gentle light of Master Kenobi's common room, sharing her favourite brew of tea after the events on Mandalore. She too had also lost a dear friend in the passing of the Duchess, but none more so than Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Ahsoka clenched her jaw. She throttled her saber when Maul rushed her.

The roar of cruiser engines almost battered her over, but she flipped just in time, aiming a low blow to Maul's back. Red caught green. Ahsoka vaulted backwards again, giving herself room to take in the sight of the descending cruiser.

_Finally._

A sudden wall of sand blew over them, and Ahsoka followed the distraction, dropping low. Maul became a shadow moving through the blanket of dust cloud, and she rammed up her shielding as far as it would go. She could feel him probing through the Force for her presence, a Niriam spider pronging its web for victims.

Qui-Gon was straining to his feet in the middle ground of the battle. Ahsoka stuck to the sands and edged closer, until she was close enough to extend a hand. _Master._ She pushed the suggestion through the Force, and saved her hand from being cleaved clean from her wrist.

"The medical droid, Ahsoka."

 _Kriff._ She'd almost entirely forgotten. Taking a lengthy arm from Qui-Gon's side, she was once again Anakin's crutch and fleeing from the frontlines. The lifted desert filled her eyes and lungs, but she gazed heavenwards and found the ship's hulking mass blotting out the suns. The silhouette of the ramp lowered to their salvation.

"You're useless here, Master. Obi-Wan and I can handle this."

That flicker of rebellion flashed in his dark eyes, but Qui-Gon was soon doing as he was told. A surge in the Force would give away their position, but it was the only way of making the ramp.

Qui-Gon launched himself up, before landing stiffly against the durasteel panels. His sides were thrumming, admonishing him for the graceless effort. _Force._ He'd certainly had better landings. "Master Jinn!"

The ramp rattled as clattering boots descended downwards. Heavy hands tried pulling him upright, but he batted them away before lifting his own frame. "I'm alright. But stay low; we're expecting a delivery."

And sure enough, as soon as he'd regained his footing in the swirling wind, something parted the dust before their eyes. Both occupants of the ramp took a few steps, before Qui-Gon was easing the load from its bearer. A medical-droid glided inside. _Well done, Ahsoka._

 _"Echuta!"_ Captain Panaka didn't look impressed with the greeting.

Meanwhile, beneath the great body of sand, Ahsoka let herself relax; the droid was safely on board, judging by the transfer of load. _Good. Now to find Obi-Wan, and get the hell outta here._

She thumbed her pilfered saber back to life, searching the area around her for that familiar warmth. She was sure she'd caught a glimpse of it somewhere to her left, as well as a streak of blue—

Red spun towards her. Her saber came up.

 _Kriff!_ It was tossed from her hand. A blow from the Force. _No._ Her legs slid wide, pulling her downwards... but it wasn't enough.

**_Fzzz!_ **

... The air around her caught fire, exploding into a blistering red. Her head cracked and hissed, and she fell backwards.

Ahsoka blinked.

_... What?_

It was impossible.

Above her, towering tall and drenched in rage, two Sith locked blades. The angle in which Maul's fell said he was her wannabe-murderer.

She blinked again.

Veined hands gripped the saber closest to her _so tight_ , the inner student within Ahsoka was almost willing her to relax. Her saviour's blade screeched against Maul's. Then it was doubling around his and throwing him away.

Ahsoka back-pedalled through the sand as the fight pushed on. Except, it was no longer with her.

_"Ahsoka!"_

Or Obi-Wan, for that matter.

An arm locked around her chest and heaved her from the ground. Her arms slid up to latch around his for support, but then forgot to let go. A strange moment passed, as both Jedi stood and marvelled at the surreal turn of events. The Dathomirian tripped, almost failing to recover as a furious blade soared down. Red screamed against red. Maul foamed at the mouth, and the stranger earned a boot to her nose.

Maul's eyes snapped to them, the dangerous yellow stirring life back into the Jedi.

Ahsoka called her abandoned saber back to hand. Obi-Wan's glowed a brilliant blue.

But the blur of red was back just as fast as it had gone. It veered towards Maul's middle, and the Sith apprentice barely managed to deflect it before it carved through his waist. A lightsaber hilt tried to break his jaw.

Maul stumbled back a few feet, cradling his battered mouth. Ahsoka shook herself again, marvelling as Maul spat a mouthful of blood to the sands. His momentary pause should have proven lethal — instead, the stranger had whirled on her heels to peer at the sight of her and Obi-Wan, clinging to each other and breathing hard. Ahsoka found herself staring into the dark expanse of black beneath the stranger's hood. Pale eyes regarded her in turn, regarded them both, and Ahsoka struggled to believe what she saw in the glimpsed grey.

_Go._

"Let's go!" sounded from her side, but she barely heard it over the flood of her own mind, the roaring engines of the cruiser and the resumed clash of lightsabers.

A sun peaked over the edge of the cruiser, setting alight the chrome of its hull as they searched for the ramp. The edge hovered over them, barely a shadow in the squall of sand. Obi-Wan frowned her way. "Go!"

She didn't argue. The wind flooded her face and pulled at her lekku, but steady feet landed on the ramp with a resounding thud. Her pilfered lightsaber found a home at her hip, and she swung around in search of that familiar warmth. A blade of blue sheathed as Obi-Wan met her at the edge.

Still, on the plains below, red battered red. A storm brewed around them, the sand now sporting their unnatural shadows, violent and dynamic. The fray grew smaller and smaller, until even Mos Espa was merely a cluster of lights in the setting suns. They were pulling away fast.

"Come on." Obi-Wan turned her way as the ramp jolted and began to retract.

The temperate cool washed over them both as they tumbled in. The light of Tatooine was sealed behind closing doors, leaving Ahsoka blinking in the artificial luminescence of the loading bay. The haze of dust still hung in the air, but she welcomed the lungfuls of sweet, sterilised air.

She crumpled to the floor. The incentive of a clean, stable ground invited her to stretch her aching legs.

The engines hummed louder here, but she barely heard it over her own heaving breaths. Ahsoka raised her eyes when tan, sand-coated boots staggered across the pristine floors, stopping beside her. Obi-Wan rested a still-bandaged hand on her shoulder, and she became a living crutch as he lowered himself to the floor. They sat knee to knee for a few shaky breaths. A combined effort brought the Force to swirl around them in its healing waves.

Then Ahsoka was left wondering if coughing was anything like yawning; Obi-Wan began hacking up his lungs, and she followed suite.

"You know, the queen's handmaiden suggested I don't let you do anything strenuous after yesterday." she croaked.

"As long as there's a cup of tea and a sleep mat at the end, I'll be alright, Ahsoka."

_I know._

"And speaking of medical, they must have dragged Qui-Gon there." Obi-Wan hung his head low, expelling one final breath, before he was hauling himself up from the floor.

"We should go check on him. And Shmi! _Force_." Ahsoka placed her palms flat to the floor, eager to pick herself up, when those calloused fingers slipped into view. It was something trivial, something very Obi-Wan, so she slid those eager palms onto his and let him help her from the floor.

"Ms Skywalker? What happened?" Obi-Wan asked, again brushing the sand from his tunics. A side of her mouth curled up at that— judging by where she could feel the grains lodged on her own persons, it would require an hour long sonic shower to get rid of it all. Ahsoka shook herself from her thoughts.

"I'm not sure— She wanted Anakin. We both saw the vision. So why go for Shmi? _Why stop Maul?_ I don't know what it means."

"Yes, that was interesting." When she met his gaze, she saw the minor accusation turned towards her. Yes, she was more than aware she had some explaining to do.

"I feel this requires a stable flow of tea, and a comfortable sleep mat to meditate on." Ahsoka thanked Obi-Wan's more forgiving nature as they approached the far door of the hold. He'd always been one to sense her moods inside out; she was never sure if it was poor shielding on her part, or he was just rather good at reading the demeanours of those around him. As she palmed the door open, she smiled at the passing frame of Obi-Wan Kenobi.

"We can do that later, once we've checked everyone else's okay, surprised them with our survival, _and_ hooked up the hyperdrive generator."

Obi-Wan turned tired eyes on her, and she caught the return of his cheek in the lifting corners of his mouth. "Good idea."


	29. Pillow Fortresses and Galactic Newspapers

Three. All faded, all small, but most certainly three. They spattered the back of her hand, like a constellation of stars surrounded by a dusting of freckles. Those hands were always busy; always putting something together, sometimes lathered in grease, most times pristine clean — but always on his shoulders, always watching out for him.

There was a particular constellation that came up just above Anchorhead over a distant horizon. The left, most farthest star was slightly lower, but the pattern was almost identical. Anakin must have been three, barely able to place a photostat to its right fitting, when he made up his mind. One day, he'd go. One day, he'd take his mother away from all this. He'd take _all_ the slaves. And they'd go _there._ To the highest star in that constellation.

Of course, that was until old Jira laughed, ran a hand through his hair and told him that system was controlled by pirates.

_They'd flay you alive, my boy! All of us! Well, maybe not the likes of Tira and Lorrie. A worse fate would await them. How about take us to the next one down?_

It wasn't until he was a whole six years old that he decided _anywhere_ would be better than Tatooine. It didn't have to be that constellation, but they'd escape. He could wait for that. Let it be said that Anakin didn't have much patience for many things. But for _that_ … He had the patience of a saint.

And low and behold, here they were.

Anakin shuffled closer to the gurney, a curious eye turning the medical bay upside down as it did him. His grip tightened, and he felt his mother's bones protest at the act. A callused thumb ran over a scarred hand, feeling the smears of bacta and white gauze beneath. Scorched and mangled by that monster's blade, Padmé's doctor did the best she could.

But Anakin couldn't count those three moles any more. They were gone, burned away by the edge of a furious red.

They'd managed to salvage her right shoulder. A good dousing of that bacta-stuff, a gauze pad and an hour later…

Anakin eyed the medical droid slotted into the corner. A light flashed out a steady rhythm, ticking over as the minutes dragged on. An innocuous looking disc sat by it, safe and harmless despite its hidden destructive power. Gone were the chains that kept them tethered to Tatooine. They'd defied the odds, and here they sat. And to further that defiance, a tiny pot plant sat atop that horrible disc beside his mother's bed, placed there by his steady hands. 'To liven up the area,' he'd told Padmé's handmaiden, when the brightly-coloured lady had stopped to watch him labour over the alignment of the pot with the counter.

Anakin eyed the robust little plant. The desert succulent needed water — he could find that later. (His mother needed that glass of water for when she woke).

Right now, he was content to sit by his mother's gurney and watch her sleep. Well, perhaps 'content' wasn't the right word. In all honesty, he wanted her to get up, tell him everything would be alright, and then join him on a tour of the ship.

Because he had no one right now.

Not that he was _really_ complaining. Because Master Qui-Gon was busy meditating, and Padmé had her duties. And Ahsoka and Obi-Wan were also busy right now, ensuring the hyperdrive generator won't explode mid-jump to Coruscant.

He didn't want to get in the way. He had no wish to be the jinper in the booloo nest.

And most of all, he wanted to make sure his mother was alright. She needed someone to sit with her and make sure she got better. And that was _his_ job.

He could do that, no problem.

"Heyoh!"

_Huh?_

"Oh! Mesa didn't mean to frighten yousa! Itsa mesa! Jar Jar!"

"Oh." Anakin let his shoulders drop again, ignoring the strain of his worn muscles. "Hey Jar Jar. Whatcha up to?"

"Oh… Moi. Not'ting much. How 'bout yousa? Ahh… Mesa heard 'bout yousa mom. Mesa berry sorry." The gungan moved through the archway, ducking his head for the few inches needed to negotiate the Nubian design. Anakin let a corner of his mouth rise, and he dipped his head.

"Thanks, Jar Jar."

"Ah," The awkward movements of Anakin's new companion now threatened the tiny succulent. The miniature pink flower it sported seemed to beg him to stop Jar Jar from accidentally flinging it off the counter. "Hersa will be gettin' betta. Desa been tellin' mesa that."

Anakin collected the defenceless plant from the edge of the desk just as Jar Jar made the nearest chair in a clutter of dangerous limbs. "Yeah, Eirtaé said mom'll be fine."

"'Dey be saying when shesa wakin'?"

It took a few moments for Anakin to grasp Jar Jar's particular syntax, and in that time he managed to knick himself on the one thorn his mother's succulent wielded for defence. He scrunched his nose and deposited the ungrateful plant on the medic station beside him. "They said she could wake up in the next two hours, or another week."

"Oh… Mesa berry sorry."

"Nah… It's not your fault Jar Jar. But thanks anyway."

A heavy blanket of silence fell across the medic bay. As Jar Jar stumbled for something else to fill the silence, Anakin dived into his pockets to extract a tiny splinter of Japor. He'd stuffed the small snippet into his pocket during the rush to leave home, and had entirely forgotten about it till the awkward silence forced his hands to find something to occupy his mind.

It was probably the strangest thing he could have stuffed in there, but Padmé had had been admiring his collection of small, unremarkable trinkets a few nights previous, and well... Padmé had liked it. She'd said it was very beautiful in a... what'd she say... _mundane_ kind of way.

"Whatcha gotta dere Ani?"

"Oh, it's nothing. Just a piece of wood." And he stuffed it back into his pocket, before Jar Jar was tempted to try and fumble for it. Once it was slipped back into safety, Anakin watched Jar Jar, who'd decided that sitting was too tricky a task, and instead might try pacing the length of the medical bay.

"Yousa bored, Ani?"

"A little bit. _Hey,_ don't touch that. You might set it off."

"Ooh... Sorry."

"Well, anyway... I'm not _that_ bored. My mom needs someone to look out for her, so I'm gonna stay here with her."

Jar Jar flopped two gangly ears in response, before his head dipped low in acknowledgement of the gravity of Anakin's situation.

"Yousa hungry? Mesa can go get yousa sometin' from de galley if yousa likin'."

Anakin frowned, peering back down at the serene expression on his mother's face. He tried not to fidget with his fingers at the sudden knot making a home in his already hunger-panged stomach. In truth, he hadn't wanted to try anything onboard... because he didn't recognise anything when he'd walked past the galley earlier. Padmé had been in a hurry to deposit him here with an honest apology, before she was all but a flash of colourful robes leaving him through the door. So he'd only caught a mere whiff of whatever was cooking in the galley... and he didn't think he was going to like it.

So, with that in mind... "Nah, I'll be alright. Thanks anyway, Jar Jar."

"Okie day, den. Mesa be seein' yousa later."

"Yeah, bye Jar Jar."

And as Jar Jar sauntered out of Medical with that curious waddle, Anakin sighed and passed a hand over the sand-ridden hair of his comatose mother. She didn't respond, and Anakin bit down on his lip to fight back a stupid tear.

A sandy sleeve scrubbed at his itchy eyes, and instead, Anakin retrieved the japor snippet once more from his pocket.

Padmé'd said she liked it.

Anakin ran his thumb over it another five times, before he was reaching for a nearby scalpel from the kidney-shaped bowl to his right.

* * *

"If I have to look at another flux coupling, or a transistor coil with _four_ seperate parallel circuits, I am going to go crazy."

"Am I in danger of physical harm if I ask you to pass me the viridian injector?"

The tool in question appeared over the top of the engine compartment, attached to an orange, grease-lathered hand. Obi-Wan smiled, collecting the final piece to the mismatched puzzle before him.

 _"Please tell me the injector ports are going to work_ ," floated down to him.

When the panel connected to said ports started to pulse blue, Obi-Wan switched off the tool in hand. Inching back, he counted the thirty pulses before the telltale hum began reverberating through the circuits and latticework of engine components encasing him.

"I believe we're in luck, Ahsoka."

"Good." There was a distinctive _thunk_ from above him, and Obi-Wan began the process of extracting himself from the engine compartment embedded in the floor. The sudden sight of Ahsoka Tano with her face pressed flat against the grated flooring encouraged a chuckle from him. However, his laughter failed to prompt any response from her, except a deep sigh and a despondent hand flung in his general direction.

"Wake me up when we've reached Coruscant."

"Let me tell Ollie we can actually jump to hyperspace first, before I start making promises."

"Do what you must. I'll still be here when you're done," she slurred into the grating.

The pilot made known his praise with a jubilant _hoorah!_ , and Obi-Wan was glad he was still in the engine room when he did - otherwise, he might have received a heavy, cheerful clap to his shoulder that would be sure to bruise.

When he turned back around, he found Ahsoka on her feet and still attempting to dust the omnipotent sand from her attire.

"If you actually manage to get rid of it that way, I'll genuinely be surprised." he quipped.

Ahsoka grumbled in response, rolling her eyes to the brightly-lit ceiling, before she sent him a half-hearted smile. "Any word yet from Qui-Gon?"

Obi-Wan set the viridian injector down on the counter where Ahsoka had deposited the tool box, and began returning everything back to its rightful slot. "No, not yet. The Queen is keeping him busy, as well as her one outspoken handmaiden."

Ahsoka walked over to the compartment that was finally humming steadily and flashing all the right colours, and began pulling the patchwork of grating back in place. "Ha... I would have thought Master Qui-Gon would've been happy to escape under the guise of 'helping' us."

"Apparently, he believed I'd start complaining about having 'too many cooks in the kitchen' if he did."

At that, Ahsoka muttered something beneath her breath which he strained to pick up over the distance of the engine bay. The one word he did make out had him quirking a brow at the back of her head, though.

"I'm glad to know I'll still have many of my convictions in place thirteen years from now." he jabbed.

"To me, you'll always be a grumpy old man in the body of a twenty-five-year-old."

" _T_ _hank you very much, Ahsoka."_ He didn't bother to hide his astonishment at her brazen remark. "I'm glad they still encourage respect towards your elders thirteen years from now."

"Good thing you're no longer my elder, then." She hauled the final panel into place, now standing to come and help him tidy away the last of the haphazard array of tools they'd needed to repair the hyperdrive.

"I am still six years your senior."

"In my time, you were twenty years my senior. Six years is nothing."

He didn't deign to respond to her quip, instead opting to tuck the tool case back into the correct cupboard as Ahsoka finished stretching out muscles that had been forced to stoop in one fixed position for nearly three hours. Even he had a kink in his neck that he'd need to work out later.

"The last time I ate was at breakfast, yesterday morning. I think I could go for something now... care to join me?" She stood by the door to the bay, her hands still on her hips as she stared at him through tired, now dazed eyes.

Obi-Wan closed the cupboard door, retrieved the rag they'd thrown into a corner sometime during the last three hours, and wiped down his hands. Casting one last meticulous eye over the engine bay, the rag ended up chucked to the counter, and Kenobi rolled down the sleeves to his tunic.

"Of course. What do you think they'll have in store for us tonight?" He joined her side.

The two Jedi padawans exited the bay, still a sway of sand-coated garments as they rounded corners and walked the stretch of the Nubian cruiser. "Hmm... Hot, desiccated meat, synthetic vegetables, and a side of Corellian sliders."

"Only the best." He smiled ahead.

"Naturally."

They were just approaching the galley when Ahsoka stopped in her tracks. He turned, and Force knew he had to control the urge to throw his arms out and catch what he expected to be her toppling frame — the trend of her Force-induced seizures had thankfully begun to curb, but it'd become ingrained in his psyche to expect the worse whenever Ahsoka Tano broke off mid-word, or suddenly stopped her fast-paced gait.

She must have seen his panicked start, for she threw a hand up and smiled at him in reassurance. "No, I'm fine. I'm just thinking about Anakin. It's weird how we haven't seen him for hours."

 _Anakin_. Force, he'd almost entirely forgotten about the boy... which said a lot about his current mental state if he were being honest with himself.

Obi-Wan stifled a yawn as Ahsoka continued. He'd need to eat first, meditate, then get at least a solid six hours sleep if he wanted to be bottom line comprehensible come tomorrow.

"How about you go and make up three plates of whatever's edible, and I'll go track down Skyguy."

"If I recall correctly, the Queen said she'd left him with his mother in the medical bay." he called after her retreating form, and Ahsoka threw up another hand in acknowledgement.

"Don't worry, I'll find him. He must be _vanished_ by now!" She disappeared around the end of the corridor, and Obi-Wan smiled at the joke as he entered the near-deserted galley.

* * *

The medical bay was equally as deserted when Ahsoka stepped in, except for the two forms at the far end of the room. The lights glittered off every surface, and the machinery lining the walls hummed and beeped to such an extent, that she wondered how exactly Anakin had managed to fall asleep in such an animated environment. But nonetheless, there was her nine-year-old master, head flat against the cold countertop beside him, and softly snoring into the fold of his arm.

Without a sound, Ahsoka strode up to the pair and pulled across a monitoring screen. Shmi's vitals pulsed steadily in the green, and Ahsoka smiled, tucking the panel away once more. Her master didn't stir, and Ahsoka's eyes darted to the blanket tucked at Shmi's feet — perhaps she should manoeuvre the child to a more comfortable position, and leave him to sleep.

But she had a sneaking suspicion that it'd been just as long for him as it had been for her since he'd last eaten, so Ahsoka sighed and gathered herself.

She picked the length of his arms off the cold counter, that cold transferring to her neck when she wrapped his arms around her. Positioning her hands just so, she scooped him from the — _oof!_

_Why are you always the rough weight of a boulder, Master? Geez, not even Obi-Wan is this heavy._

With a little help from the Force, Ahsoka managed to perch him at her hip, and when his arms tightened around her neck, she sighed. His cheek, still soft from sleep, nuzzled against her shoulder, and she again felt guilty about having to wake him for food.

But it'd been well over forty-eight hours since Anakin had last ingested anything of substance, and she frankly didn't need him becoming hypoglycaemic. So instead, she palmed the lights down in medical, and began the trek back to the galley with a tremendously groggy Anakin softly stirring in his sleep at her shoulder.

* * *

She received another of those trademark brow lifts when she wandered into the galley, trying to make out the details of the room when coming from the brightly lit corridors to the soft ambient lighting of the galley. One hand splayed flat to Anakin's back, and another scooped to his bottom, Ahsoka found the table Obi-Wan had procured for them (mostly due to the fact that said Jedi padawan was trying to keep the smile from his face as Ahsoka was forced to reshuffle Anakin's weight for the fifth time since entering). The operation required to place the still sleep-ladened child upright in his chair almost cost her a lekku, but soon Anakin was blinking reeling eyes at Obi-Wan, while desperately trying to scrub the sleep from them.

"Good morning, Anakin," he tried, but the boy was still staring at him as though he'd never seen him before this very moment.

Then, finally, "Obi-Wan?"

"I believe so, yes." He responded in jest, but regretted it when Anakin blinked again in his daze.

"Where am I?"

"The galley, Anakin." Ahsoka offered as she slipped into her chair beside him, and began to inspect the modest meal before them. "You need something to eat, little one. It must be well over forty-eight hours since you last ate anything."

"Oh."

"Try the sliders, Anakin. You might enjoy them." Obi-Wan wasted no time in pushing over the plate of said Corellian sliders, the heat of the ceramic nipping at his fingers as he did. However, it didn't go unnoticed that he'd push over the dish with the highest level of carbohydrates and calories. There was clearly more than just the heavy haze of sleep hampering Anakin's movements.

"I dunno," Anakin slurred, and Ahsoka internally cursed herself.

She'd left him for too long. She'd just... _forgotten_ about him, and look at him now! Of course he wouldn't want to go to the galley for anything, not while his mother lay unconscious on a bed in Medical, and everyone else he knew was far too busy to spend time with him.

This was her fault.

She'd done this to—

 _Ow!_ Something hard, or more accurately _Obi-Wan's boot_ collided with her shin beneath the table. Blue eyes flashed to grey, ready to let fly a stream of rebukes, when the stern look in Obi-Wan's eyes forced her back thirteen years into the future, to sitting across from her grandmaster in the aftermath of a hard-won victory.

"He's fine, Ahsoka. Just help me sort out a plate for him."

"Yes, Master." The smoke of blaster fire and dismembered droids cleared, and instead she went about loading Anakin's plate from the meager offerings before them.

Anakin earned himself a slice of at least everything that Obi-Wan had pinched from the steaming tubs of hours-old food. The boy jabbed at his plate half-heartedly while Obi-Wan rose to collect the youngling a glass of plotor juice.

Ahsoka watched the strange display ( _Anakin, not hungry? There's a first for everything, I suppose._ ), while mixing the selection of foodstuffs around her own plate. When he stopped on one particular item, and wouldn't stop jabbing, she twisted her mouth.

"Go on," she prodded her own fork in the general direction of his sliders. "You'll like those." _At least, you should._

"What... What are they?" He asked, still struggling to bring her into focus if his narrowing eyes said anything.

"Corellian sliders, little one. I promise they're good." And to show, she plopped a piece of her own slider into her mouth, and chewed. "Well, at least the _Temple's_ sliders are good. Not so sold on the packet-bought ones, I'll be honest."

"Here, Anakin." Obi-Wan returned, placing down a glass of that promised plotor juice just as Anakin pecked up the courage to try the slider. And so, for the next ten minutes, two Jedi padawans watched as Anakin Skywalker picked, nibbled at, then shovelled the assortment of food before him into his mouth. Ahsoka had just finished her helping of synthesised vegetables, paying half an eye to the article Obi-Wan was reading on his datapad, when Anakin finally spoke up.

"Whatcha reading?"

He'd caught Obi-Wan mid-mouthful, so Anakin shovelled another slice of the flavourless desiccated meat into his mouth and chewed while he waited for Obi-Wan to respond.

"The Galactic Headlines. Coruscant's Daily Newspaper."

 _"Some things don't change."_ Ahsoka stabbed at another Corellian slider, and deposited it on Anakin's plate. Thankfully, the colour in the boy's cheeks had returned full flush, but she was happy to keep dishing out food until he said otherwise.

"Yes, well… There's an interesting headline about the current political landscape of the Senate."

"Sounds boring." Anakin took a sip from his near-empty glass. The datapad in Obi-Wan's grip dipped as the man behind it raised his brows, but opted to go back to his reading rather than comment on the attention span of the average nine-year-old. "Is there anything about Padmé's planet? The one where she's a Queen?"

It was his wording that threw both Ahsoka and Obi-Wan for a loop; the suggestion that Padmé might belong to many planets, and was currently filling a different role on each.

"Actually, there is, but it's only offering the story according to the Trade Federation." Obi-Wan took another bite at his meal.

"What's it say?"

"Nothing factual, as per usual wherever the Federation are involved."

Through a mouthful of food, Anakin jabbed a fork in their direction. "You'd think they might go and ask Padmé and her people about what's happening."

Despite being confronted by the sudden wisdom of a nine-year-old and his partially chewed mouthful of food, Obi-Wan met the boy's gaze.

"They did. It was Master Qui-Gon and I who were sent to negotiate."

"And you did a great job, too." Ahsoka quipped, jamming another mouthful in to save herself from having to respond to Obi-Wan's victimised look.

"No, I mean… someone who wasn't sent by the Republic. You know… like a _reporter_ , or something."

"Any freelance journalist in the area is in danger of being incarcerated by the Trade Federation." Ahsoka answered, offering him a defeated shrug as she did.

Anakin narrowed his eyes, and began sucking on the side of his mouth. "What does… _inasserated_ mean?"

Two Jedi padawans, one nearing his trials and the other old enough to make the decision to abandon her entire way of life, struggled to stifle the chuckle at Anakin's unintended slip. While Ahsoka recovered from her embarrassing lack of maturity by hiding her smile in a glass of water, Obi-Wan met Anakin's eyes, having more success in pushing away his amusement for Anakin's benefit. " _Incarcerated_ , Anakin. It means imprisoned."

"Oh! Yeah, but if they're incar— incarcer— _imprisoned_ , won't that tell the Republic that the Trade Federation are doing something illegal?"

"If the Republic didn't send them, as you proposed, then if they disappear, who would know? Besides, Naboo has its own news publishing firms — the rest of the galaxy hasn't heard a single thing from them. Unfortunately, that's the nature of a blockade, Anakin."

Anakin seemed to have a sudden deep interest in his plate. "Oh, right."

Obi-Wan stayed, trying to fish for Anakin's gaze again. "But it was a very good point, Anakin. Rather observant of you."

"I don't like politics." Anakin finished, still sucking on the side of his mouth with a despondent pout.

 _"Yeah, welcome to the party."_ Ahsoka mumbled, the statement heavy and ladened with unknown subtext. But her comment earned a strange look from both her companions, and it wasn't long before Obi-Wan had found another article (the result of some aimless scrolling), hopefully to redirect the current turn of the conversation.

"Here, Anakin. This one might be more to your liking."

Over the plates and nearly overturning water-filled glasses, Anakin reached for the datapad Obi-Wan had extended across the table. Ahsoka began collecting their now empty plates, somewhat stuck watching and waiting eagerly for Anakin's reaction to whatever Obi-Wan had found to stir up his interest.

His eyes grew to the size of dinner-plates, and his jaw fell open. "Oh, wizard! I didn't even know they were planning on updating the Lexinpur's design. They're opting for a new engine, straight from the… the… _Vrenoit_ Exchange? Hmm... Never heard of it."

 _The Lexinpur._ Made sense. Ahsoka had paid half an ear to their conversation when they'd been modifying Anakin's podracer a few days previous, and Anakin had been eager to ask Obi-Wan everything he could about the current line of state of the art starships. At the time, she'd thought it might be best to encourage Anakin towards focusing on the task at hand — Obi-Wan was beneath the chassis of the racer, and was struggling with the spark plugs that Anakin had ripped out earlier (something that had caused their resident Jedi-padawan-turned-mechanic to have a near conniption at the time). Instead, she was pleasantly surprised by the fast-paced exchange that had begun between the two about starship designs and schematics.

And here they were now, continuing with the conversation as if the events of past two days hadn't happened at all.

* * *

When Anakin yawned, bringing a tiny fist to rub at his blinking eyes, Ahsoka found her own look mirrored by Obi-Wan. She sculled the last of the tea from her cup, watching as Obi-Wan poured out the last of their shared pot into his own, before downing that as well.

"You tired, Ani?" she asked, placing her cup back down to the table. Her master nodded, shrugging as he returned the datapad to Obi-Wan.

"A little."

"I suspect it's more than _a little._ " Obi-Wan pocketed the 'pad, and Ahsoka sighed.

"No one's sorted out quarters for you yet, have they?"

At Anakin's confirming head shake, she gave him a once-over, then began helping Obi-Wan to clear up the mess of their finished after-dinner tea. "Come on. You can crash in our shared cupboard for now."

* * *

The walk to the cramped quarters that Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan, Ahsoka, and now _Anakin_ had to share for the remainder of the trip instilled a bit more life back into their young charge, so much so that by the time they'd reached the unassuming gap in the wall that housed their broom-cupboard-quarters, Obi-Wan was mentally perusing a list of literature that he could possibly read for the remainder of the night, because Anakin's wild gestures and fragmented dance moves gave no indication that he was going to be slowing any time soon.

Ahsoka palmed them in, and Anakin nearly ran into the opposing wall of the small space immediately.

" _Wow,"_ he breathed. "This is _small_."

"Yes, it is. So perhaps it'd be best if you _sit,_ Anakin." It was exhaustion encouraging his shortening temper. He just needed six hours sleep, _please._ Oh, even four would do...

Anakin threw himself to the bed on the left, which of course, just so happened to be Obi-Wan's designated sleep couch. The boy's legs kicked backwards and forwards, his heels slamming into the base of the alcove as he did, and Ahsoka thankfully came to his rescue.

"Alright, Skyguy. I guess there's no use in asking you to sleep,"

" _Are all of us meant to sleep in here?_ Where is Qui-Gon supposed to fit? And what happens when my mom wakes up?"

"Master Qui-Gon is currently advising the Queen—" Obi-Wan began, but,

_"Padmé?"_

"Ah, yes. And as for your mother, once she awakes, a few of the pilots may have to relocate in order to accomodate both you and your mother." Obi-Wan removed his outer robe, folding it with a careful eye, before placing it at the foot of his mattress.

" _As I was saying,_ " Ahsoka interrupted with a cleared throat. Anakin's cheerful gaze darted back to hers, and the swinging of his legs continued with an enthusiastic glee. "I figure we were too optimistic in hoping you'd want to sleep,"

"Yep!" He popped his 'p', and she could just make out the incredulous half-smile, and the roll of grey eyes as Obi-Wan went about sorting out the current state of his attire while she wrangled Anakin's obvious sugar rush. Perhaps they shouldn't have given him that extra helping of plotor juice after dinner.

"Well, how about this. I know _you_ had a sonic shower soon after you got onboard—"

" _Padmé_ made me. She said it might help me to calm down."

"Well, Obi-Wan and I haven't had the chance yet to do the same."

"I know. You're still trailing sand everywhere."

"Exactly. So how about we cut you a deal..."

Obi-Wan's gaze darted up from the pockets of his tunic, not overly fond of where she might be taking this...

* * *

She could have suggested meditation... or perhaps even a good book that Obi-Wan would have been more than happy to source for his unexpected charge, but no — for some unknown reason, Ahsoka had decided that _this_ activity should be sufficient in keeping Anakin entertained, and hopefully coax him closer towards the soft beckoning of sleep.

Force knew he himself was trying to stave off the heavy hand of sleep, just to keep an eye on the boy who was again marching up the length of the pocket-sized room, this time beneath the stretch of a white sheet.

Another ten minutes went by, and Obi-Wan was beginning to wonder how much sand Ahsoka had managed to gather on her persons. It'd been at least half an hour, and she still hadn't emerged from the 'fresher yet.

He scrolled to another article, this time something on the latest exhibit at the Aeroflight Museum, watching as the words began to slide into a ridiculously long string of indecipherable letters.

_"Oof!"_

Another pillow skimmed the top of the sheet, before he heard it collide with the mattress that was now attached to the floor grating.

Obi-Wan dropped his head back to his robe that now doubled as a pillow, seeming as he'd lost his to the great fort of pillows and blankets that Anakin was assembling in the middle of the room. It'd been nearly an hour since they'd returned to their quarters, half of which Obi-Wan had spent in the 'fresher, washing himself down and then beating the sand from his tunics, trousers, and underclothes. Upon returning to the room to relieve Ahsoka of her creche-sitting duty, he'd been greeted with a monumental, barricaded fortress of pillows, blankets, sheets and mattresses in the cramped space. While Ahsoka promised to return within the hour, Obi-Wan was still trying to pick his way to his sleep cot, which had been stripped clean of everything except the mattress and his robe.

Half an hour later, he was still watching Anakin try and beat his pillows into submission as he expanded the fort to include a higher ceiling.

"Why?" He'd made the mistake of asking.

"So both you and Ahsoka can fit," had been the happy, candid reply.

"Ahsoka and I will be needing to sleep soon, Anakin. As will you," he'd offered gently, and when all went silent inside the pillow fortress, Obi-Wan sighed. "Perhaps tomorrow, Anakin."

"Okay then!"

And another five minutes rolled by, before Obi-Wan dared to interrupt Anakin's great feat of engineering again. "Anakin, what are you doing?"

"I can't see past the blanket to hook in this pillow. Ahsoka will be back before it's done now… It's _p_ _oodoo_."

... He wasn't really going to get involved was he? The purpose of this ridiculous endeavour was to keep Anakin out of his hair, as well as keep the boy entertained... not to become part of the proceedings. But the youngling was again punching the blanket and pillow, so Obi-Wan sighed.

The datapad dropped to his chest, and the padawan extended a hand to Anakin's fortified mess. The Force came when called, whispering between his fingers before the expanse of white sheet was leaving Anakin's head. Instead, it came to a wavering halt a clear two feet above him, like some spectre out of those cheap holovids circulating on the holonet. The boy's hair now stood on end, the static buildup creating a ludicrous image when coupled with Anakin's wide eyes.

" _Wizard_ ," he drew out in a low gasp, and Obi-Wan was tempted to drop it on him in the small hope it might hurry him along.

"I think I hear Ahsoka coming down the corridor."

"Oh! Right," A blur of movement, Anakin finished stuffing everything into place, and finally gave the all clear for Obi-Wan to drop the sheet. After a beat, another lyrical 'wizard!' met his ears, this time muffled by the sheets and pillows now encasing the youngling. Obi-Wan rolled his eyes and went back to his reading, but in his periphery, he caught the curve of Anakin's head turning to him beneath the blanket. "Thanks Obi-Wan."

"You're welcome, Anakin."

As foretold, the doors soon slid open, depositing one decidedly cleaner Ahsoka Tano into the room. Granted, neither boy could really see her past the pile of blankets and pillows she was carrying, but her presence sung clear and sweet into the Force around them.

The pile ended up chucked onto the grating at her feet, and instead, Ahsoka locked her hands to her hips. "Force. That's one impressive pillow fort, Skyguy."

At the call of his name, Anakin's head popped out of the small flap he'd left at the entrance. "Told you I'd have it finished by the time you got back."

"It's awesome." She shuffled to the left to conclude her once-over, unable to budge any further due to the size of the lavish castle. "You didn't cheat, did you?"

"No!"

She looked to Obi-Wan, who was still lounged backwards in his stripped sleeping cot, looking for all the galaxy like he'd prefer to be deep in sleep, rather than baby-sitting Anakin Skywalker. He pinched the bridge of his nose, and shook his head. "No, he didn't. There was no Force-aided-pillow-fort-building taking place here."

Ahsoka knew she didn't look convinced — Anakin's response had been too quick, too eager to please. Nevertheless, "Hey, extra points Skyguy. You've managed to maroon Obi-Wan on his sleep cot."

And only then does said padawan seem to notice his current predicament, dropping the data pad and sitting up in a whir of movement. His frown left Ahsoka biting down on her lip to stop the laughter. However, before Obi-Wan could trample across it all, bringing an hour's work down beneath angry socked-feet just to escape, Anakin disappeared back into the pillow fort and reappeared before him. "No, I thought about that. There's a little flap here, so he can joi— so he can get out if he wants to."

At this, Obi-Wan heaved a sigh. Force, he knew an invitation when he heard one.

"I really just want to sleep, Anakin."

* * *

Five minutes later, Obi-Wan was seated across from Anakin and Ahsoka, his hair gathering a static charge from the constant brushing against the synthetic sheets above him. There was no escaping this, not tonight it seemed. What was arguably worse was that they had another week of this at best. The only good he could see was the fact the ship had apparently swapped over to Courscant time at midnight, which meant an extra five hours had been added to his sleep schedule. It made sitting in this claustrophobic sanctuary of pillows Anakin and Ahsoka had created just that bit more tolerable.

"Anakin, you're sitting on my hand."

"Oh, sorry 'Soka!"

...

"Cool! I haven't seen your lightsaber up close bef—"

" _Thank you._ "

"Awww."

...

"Obi-Wan, could you move over? I think you're sitting on my pillow."

...

"Has anyone seen my datapad?"

_"Oops."_

Obi-Wan sighed for what felt like the twentieth time that night. Master Qui-Gon was going to struggle to find them in all this come tomorrow morning.


	30. Wayfaring Stranger

It started in his left hand, a gentle niggle just enough to coax him from sleep. He batted it away, until the niggle became an incessant tug. His eyes flew open when it began to steadily crack its way up his arm, cold and _empty_. Anakin flinched, his bid to snap away from this sudden weight in him futile. It tightened, creaking and splintering its way through his… through his—

Anakin rolled. Somewhere in this strange realm between wake and sleep he knew he'd been wedged between Obi-Wan and Ahsoka. Perhaps if he could roll just far enough, he might roll into either of them — they'd know what to do.

Anakin flew backwards... and continued to pedal backwards until he was left with the suffocating conclusion that neither Ahsoka nor Obi-Wan were there. No warm arms encircled him, no groggy starts nor toasty bodies to press to. Had… had they left him?

That weight grew heavier in his chest, until he was near pinned to an elusive floor beneath him. Anakin blinked at the upside-down world around him — Gods, where was he? This wasn't— he wasn't—?

"Anakin, calm down."

A tempered voice reached his ears over the thrumming of his own heart and trembling breaths, and for a mere breath of a second, Anakin placed the voice to Obi-Wan Kenobi. A refined edge, with those sophisticated, flattened vowels that Obi-Wan's accent boasted — that's what he heard behind him now, admonishing him. But it _wasn't Obi-Wan._ The pitch was all wrong. This was a woman, a young woman too, judging by the sweet cadence of her voice.

"Don't struggle, Skyguy." _Skyguy?_ _Ahsoka?_ No, again, the voice was just _wrong._ "I'm sorry I had to do this again, but it was the only way."

"Wha... Where am I?" He tried throwing a hand to his throat when he didn't feel air pass through his windpipe. 

"Your friends will perhaps be able to explain it to you if you tell them this is a vision... while not entirely accurate, it will suffice." 

Two hands flattened against his back, and before Anakin could contemplate the coldness there, he found himself back on his feet. The weight was gone, and precious air flooded his lungs in bountiful, gushing waves. It took him a few good seconds to situate himself, ensuring his head was still attached to his shoulders, and that his feet would work if he should need them — before he remembered where he stood, and what stood with him. With the all the bravery he could muster, Anakin eyed the creature looming over him in. An excess of oozing black cloth bled off her, prowling at his edges. Anakin shot back, trying to put space between himself and this _thing_ that now seemed to be waiting for him to regather himself.

This... this was a vision? 

"You'll be alright, little one. The effects aren't long-lasting, but you might have a nasty migraine for a few hours. My apologies, but Master Jinn had placed _considerable_ mental shielding around you. It's a bugger of a thing to break down if you're out of practice." She paused, that smooth accent giving way to a sympathetic chuckle. "You know, Master Tano should have something in her utility belt to deal with a headache, should you ask her."

The form shifted, the dark spell of her robes wavering as she stepped closer. She was too close now, close enough that the edges of her robes licked at his feet. "... Anakin Skywalker, the Force's Chosen One." There was a note of sheer _marvel_ in her words, and it rocked Anakin more than the sudden title she'd bestowed upon him. "By the Light, they guard you well. You're a struggle to find, little one."

Anakin stumbled backwards, and she lingered for a breath, allowing him the much needed room to breathe.

"You're not frightened of me, are you? Skyguy — _Anakin._ You've forgotten what I told you. I couldn't hurt you even if I tried." She broke for air, perhaps… but Anakin could swear he felt the flicker of a smile on a face he just _couldn't_ see. "Oh no, you're far too precious. And besides, I think the Force would rather have my head than ever let any harm come to you... _Anakin_ … have you made up your mind?"

 _What?_ The stranger stood stock still before him, waiting… seemingly as patient as she was deadly. Anakin tried to step backwards again, but this great mass of shadows refused to change shape or shrink in any way.

"Will you come with me, Chosen One?"

... _Great._

_Ahsoka, please._

_Obi-Wan…?_

_Mister Qui-Gon!_

_… Mom._ "You hurt my mom. You have to be _crazy_ if you think I'm gonna go with you."

"Your thoughts dwell on—? _Spare_ me, Anakin. You don't need them. You have greatness within you, little one." A billow of dark cloth came to settle before him. So close now, Anakin could feel the faint brush of her breath over his nose, but he refused to shy away from the black tendrils that lay around him, waiting patiently to spring and snatch him up. An appendage from the aura revealed a head, and it turned as if in consideration… before smooth, elegant fingers extended from the flowing cloth. This time, when Anakin flinched, tiny feet remained planted. The plump curve of his cheek stung under the cold touch of the stranger.

"A tangible light of such enormity." Assertive fingers tilted his chin. "But a breathtaking Darkness that dictates your destiny. Time and fate converges around _you,_ Ani."

She ran a hand along Anakin's cheek, and despite everything that screamed _danger_ from this woman, the gentleness she offered brought to mind his mother… or perhaps even Ahsoka.

" _You look so much like him._ " Her sudden gasp broke through his thoughts. Her almost panicked admission nearly slipped his notice, but it was her fingers now clenching around his chin that had him trying to shake loose. Her grip merely tightened. Anakin sucked in a breath, and was forced to follow her gasp into a sudden torrent of bright flashes.

* * *

Sunlight exploded over them, the righteous roar of _life_ and _joy_ swamped his senses. Gone was the biting cold and embittered rage of the woman who held him, instead Anakin stood in a strange, luxurious room. High vaulted ceilings, with columns of gentle bronzes and alabaster encircled him. Warmth washed this room and its occupants — a young girl and boy, dressed in the tunics of Jedi, ran the familiar patterns of the mosaic floor.

Anakin blinked at them as they went, ignorant of him as they stared upwards in open awe. Contagious laughter filled the air, and Anakin followed their gazes until he could see what held them so captivated.

A young woman levitated in collected ease at the centre of the room.

It was then that he felt it — that gentle tug pulling him, _calling_ him as it filled every inch of his being. It rolled in languid, circling waves, pivoting around this girl, mingling with the sunlight as it did. Anakin nearly jumped as the two younglings left the ancient floor, swept off their feet and brought to join the older girl in mid air. A stark contrast came about as they hovered, all sprawled limbs and hysterical laughter, while the oldest remained in that graceful perch of meditative silence — that was until a smile tugged at the edges of her lips, and the younger two caught sight of it.

* * *

And just as quickly as it had started, Anakin was tumbling from the scene. His lungs emptied themselves of breath, as if it had all been punched from him. His feet were ripped out from beneath him. The ground gave way. The world swayed, and something threw him aside.

_Oof!_

Two hands clamped around his upper arms, holding him in place like a vice. His head swam, and he was almost thankful for that steadying grip. "Come with me, Anakin." She shook him, and his teeth nearly caught his tongue. "Under my guidance, this time you _will_ right the wrong of the Galaxy."

"No," he stuttered, desperate to get away from her tightening fingers and _mad_ promises. "I wanna stay with my mom, Qui-Gon and Ahsoka. And Obi-Wan!"

Her sudden rumble of laughter had him pause... there was no malice, no air of mockery, only bitterness. Only despair _._

"The names of a forgotten era… they were noble creatures, but they cannot begin to imagine the magnitude of their actions. Tano is the harbinger of death, Skywalker." She shook him again, her teeth setting in a panicked line. "I know you want to trust her; to let her love you… But you _cannot_."

She spat the words like poison, the vehemence behind them startling him to silence. The pressure on his arms eased then. Perhaps she could see the frightened flicker of his eyes. "You are treading into dark times, little one. They will consume us if we do not stand together."

"I wanna go back." Anakin begged, now desperate to shake her loose. But that pressure was back, and so was her despair, assaulting him with its intensity.

"Master, _please_ listen to me. You will bring balance to the Force, but Tano and Kenobi don't know what that entails. It'll break them… and I'm sorry, Anakin," she whispered, a note of defeat souring her words. Her hands slipped to a gentle hold on his elbows, until they were releasing him. Anakin watched the mouth below the cowl twist in pain. She tracked some unseen nightmare. "I'm so sorry, Master. I couldn't..." Something _ached,_ and Anakin swallowed back a sob.

So many questions raced through his head, but at the forefront of it all was this urgent bid to _get away._

A sudden gust of wind billowed into them, gathering the stranger's robes and sweeping them into the air. Anakin battled with his tunics as she turned. Grey eyes shot away, and he saw the underside of her jaw beneath the hood.

"What have you brought me, old friend?" she whispered, moving to stand. Stretching to a towering height, that black cloth fell over him with the intent to consume. Everything fell dark.

The wind came again, now a veritable wave as it battered them over. It ruffled his fringe and tunics again, and lifted the robe that had swallowed him whole. Anakin fell backwards as the gust freed him, but the stranger paid him no heed. All he heard was a sharp gasp for breath.

"But why bring him? I don't need..."

Her words fell silent on swirling winds. Instead, she turned herself into the wave this new arrival brought, revelling in the benevolence it harboured.

Something came his way now, a spark of joy, actual Light… the first positive note Anakin had felt from her thus far.

But a swell of sadness was quick to crush it. Perhaps it was this that fuelled the turn of sharp teeth in an even sharper smile, now flashing his way. "…Dear Master Anakin." Something deathly serious entered her words, and a coldness he wasn't familiar with crackled its way along the ghost of her touch. "What do we make of those who come knocking in the night? Does the thunderous banging awaken the servants, or summon the weary Master from his complacent slumber?"

... _What?_

"Kenobi." The glint of sharp teeth caught the light in a vicious, sprawling smile. "What a pleasure to see you once again, now in a... _less absurd_ manner. You still favour attacking from your right. _Tst_ …" She waggled a finger at an empty void beyond them. "You're lucky Maul didn't pick up on that."

"Obi-Wan?" Anakin Skywalker's voice ventured timidly. No answer came — he couldn't see him, no matter how far he stretched up on his toes in this nowhere place.

"...It's alright, Anakin." Something feather-light whisked around him, encompassing his stiff shoulders, and Anakin just managed to stop himself from falling into it in relief. Eyes darted down to check if that was a hand on his shoulder, or just…

Something warm pressed to the front of his chest, and he was pulled to the gentle Light now whispering behind him.

"By the Force! How perfect." A harrowing cackle split the air, as if that alone could snatch him back. Anakin reached up for the arm anchored over him, definitely _not_ lifting it over his eyes.

"Here enters the _Great_ Master Kenobi!… merely a padawan learner. The _s_ _aviour of worlds_ , now but a child. I see the old man didn't lie — you will still stand by Skywalker, no matter the cost. I suppose that is true, until the very Light becomes that cost. But alas!" A sudden hand thrown their way tossed them centre stage, and an audience of eager listeners awaited her final verdict from the dark. "The Hero with No Fear… and the _Negotiator_ — a man who always favoured his words to his mastery of the saber. Always admirable, Master. Always so selfless…"

The manic _glee_ in her voice died a quick death, and this mercurial stranger slammed into the Force a sudden, unchecked wave of sorrow. Obi-Wan sucked in a breath in this nowhere place at the glacial change. As if carried there by her shifting passions, the Sith took a rapid, halting step forward. Obi-Wan pulled the child tight, but found it wasn't Anakin she was angling for. A hand shot out from her robes, now reaching for him, Obi-Wan, _in earnest_ , before she caught herself.

Long fingers stayed outstretched, snagged by an unseen force and now a phantom brush against his cheeks— before they curled into a fist. Her eyes dropped, and were they imagining her mad ramblings? A silent warning to herself that had been spoken again and again for this very moment. "I'm so sorry, Master…" she finally croaked, "But she'll fail."

Anakin wanted to fold himself away in Obi-Wan's sleeves when her gaze fell on him once more. That sleeve shifted, and tugged him just that bit closer.

"Are you responsible for Ahsoka's fits? Why attack Anakin's mother? And why did you attack us, only to save us from Maul?" Anakin had never heard such vehemence in Obi-Wan's voice before.

 _Not now, Obi-Wan. Come on, let's go!_ Anakin thought back, only really hoping to silently will him to hurry up and get them out of there, wherever _t_ _here_ was. He wasn't expecting the hand stationed across his chest to grip a handful of his tunic and _squeeze..._ Anakin twisted his lips, but did as Obi-Wan wanted.

"Ahsoka? Master Tano means well, and always will. But she is blind; so is Maul." She dipped her head, golden eyes flickering away for a beat. They ventured into an unseen world that neither of them wanted to follow her into. "My father defeated him many years ago, so did my mother once, in a forgotten time. But that isn't of importance, Master."

She took a sobering step back, and ran a final hand down Anakin's cheek. Anakin flung the fetid thing off, cussing at her in Huttesse as he did. She only smiled, and chanced another look at Obi-Wan, a glint of a familiar grey blinking at him. "She's calling you back, I best not keep you any longer. You have a long journey ahead of you. Be well, my friend. And Anakin," That grey flickered golden. "I'll be seeing you soon."

"Who are you?" Obi-Wan asked, and Anakin finally found himself manoeuvred behind the great mass of Obi-Wan, this stranger of little mind to the action. Instead, the gloom of her gaze remained fixed on Kenobi.

"The question you should be asking is, what was I ever? I am of no importance, Master…" That jumbled wave of sadness came crawling back, snapping up their limbs and demanding attention. "I never was."

And as the already faint breath of smoke outlining a body began to fade, the two were left with only a pair of golden eyes gleaming their way.

...

" _Anakin! Obi-Wan!"_

Anakin flinched.

" _I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me. I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me. I am_ —" A gentle voice called him, but it was losing fast to the swell of shadows rolling over them.

"Obi-Wan?" Anakin gasped to the only thing that seemed to be sorting through the wave of grief. It wanted to push them down, wanted to show them a million things they shouldn't see, and Obi-Wan was the only thing standing between Anakin and giving into it. A soft call, the same lilt and cadence of his mother, beckoned him under. Anakin felt the gentle brush of fingers, saw the smile of a happier time—

Strong arms wrapped around him, and pulled him away from the siren's call.

" _Anakin!_ "

* * *

"I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me. I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me."

With her fingers pressed to the warm temples of Anakin Skywalker, Ahsoka Tano wracked the Force for the edges of his consciousness. It didn't help her dismay that she couldn't seem to rouse Obi-Wan from his sleep either. Her grandmaster was as dead to the world as her own master, it seemed. She fumbled for his pulse point, like so many nights ago in this small sleep space, and again relief came when she felt his heart pulsing steadily against her fingertips. _Good._

But Force forgive her, her priority would always be Anakin.

" _I am one with the Force, and the Force is_ —"

Blue eyes snapped open, and plump, child-like lips parted with a gasp, "—with _me._ "

" _Anakin."_

And beside them, just on cue, one Jedi padawan came bolting back into the land of the living. Sitting up in such a start, Kenobi managed to snag himself on the expanse of sheets over his head. She just caught his eye before the ceiling above them came tumbling down. Walls caved inwards, buttressed foundations toppled, and Ahsoka threw it all to one side. The cold air of the sleeping compartment met her skin, but both Anakin and Obi-Wan now sat beside her, breath laboured but _alive._

"You've _gotta_ stop doing that to me." Ahsoka sighed, before pulling her knees too and resting her elbows there.

"'Soka!" Anakin nearly slipped on the sheet as he all but dived across the space between them. Two arms latched themselves around her neck and _squeezed,_ and perplexed beyond belief, Ahsoka found Kenobi's gaze when she settled two hands onto Anakin's shaking spine.

"I missed something fairly important, didn't I."

A huff passed through Obi-Wan's nose, and he seemed to be weighing his options before he was quickly collecting himself from the cluttered floor. "Indeed. It's best we find Qui-Gon before I start explaining in detail."

"That crazy woman thinks you're the har— harbi— _bringer_ of death, 'Soka."

... _What?_

Obi-Wan refused to meet her gaze as Anakin dislodged himself long enough for Ahsoka to reach her feet. "Master?" she asked, and that brought about a flinch from the young Kenobi.

"As I said, I believe it would be best to find Master Qui-Gon before we discuss this any further."

Ahsoka swallowed, but let Anakin fit his hand into hers. Tiny fingers squished hers to the point that leather was creaking, but Ahsoka squished back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. First, if you've made it this far, congrats. Second, hope you've enjoyed it. Be warned, I did start writing this when I was 17 and rather gung ho with all the words I knew. I'm now coming back to this story after a few years with the hope of trying to do it some justice.  
> I wouldn't mind hearing your thoughts on this thing so far, if you're up for that. Otherwise, have a good day (or night whenever you're reading this.)  
> \- Autumn.


	31. Pilfered Lightsabers & Hernig II

The length between their broom cupboard and the Queen’s Chambers was filled with a restless silence between her and Obi-Wan, to the point where it was becoming a challenge to ignore the constant glances he was sending her way. She did wonder what conclusions he was concocting, and what questions he wanted to shake from her with every look, but she resolutely kept an eye on Anakin, lest he trip. _Again._

Anakin was oblivious to their unease for the most part, having skipped a few steps ahead so he could situate himself in what was the optimal position to walk backwards and drill the two Jedi with a million questions that neither she nor Obi-Wan seemed to have the answers to. _'Was that a vision? Are visions always like that? Who is she? What does she want from us_? _'_

It was her turn to send those solemn side glances, packed with the same apprehension that Obi-Wan had been casting her way since she'd shook him awake. Unlike her, he was completely unfazed by her scrunched nose and narrowed eyes. He'd merely imparted a gentle reminder towards needing to locate Qui-Gon first before she could prize open the reason for his simmering shields.

They'd had to steer Anakin away from at least two walls and one abandoned freight box, as insistent as he was on walking backwards and subjecting them to his interrogation. That was until his boot snagged on the lip of the entrance to the Queen's chambers, and Ahsoka barely caught the tunic at the nape of his neck before he could slam into the deck plates below.

" _Wow."_

They stared down at him, his nose mere inches from the grating and sounding as though he might give into a torrent of laughter.

 _"Wizard._ "

Not bothering to stop the roll of her eyes, Ahsoka brought Anakin back to his feet and crossed her arms over a huffed chest. A single brow arched down at him, and he found the exact same scathing look worn by Obi-Wan with an almost uncanny resemblance. The corners of Anakin's mouth inched upwards in apology, and he was _certainly_ ready to give them one, when— "Ani!"

_"Mom!"_

Anakin streamed across the room, his aura pulsing with such an intensity it left the Jedi blinking at the sudden swell of warmth he'd generated. His intended target nearly toppled when he bowled into her arms. It was only due to one well-timed arm and a steady foot, that Shmi didn't collapse under the sudden weight of her son. Calloused hands smoothed down every stretch of Anakin, desperate to still his shaking and reassure him of her enduring presence.

"It is okay, my son. I am here. I am safe. _We_ are safe now. _Hush..."_

"Padawans."

Master Qui-Gon towered over both Shmi and Anakin, and as he turned, he revealed the petite form of Padmé Amidala who'd been neatly tucked away from view. As the Queen walked over to place a hand on Anakin's shoulder, Qui-Gon resettled the fall of his robes. Both Ahsoka and Obi-Wan halted by the door, and when they both dipped into a bow, Qui-Gon tried to shake the odd churn the Living Force gave when he took note of their perfect unison — or the fact that Obi-Wan's aura was almost teeming behind hastily constructed shields. Tano's apprehension seemed to only complement his padawan's, and no one missed the troubled glance the two shared before Qui-Gon was all but willing them both to breathe and relax.

"Ms Skywalker. It is good to see you awake and well once more." Obi-Wan dipped his head, and Shmi Skywalker, past the tufts of Anakin's hair, smiled.

"Thank you, Padawan Kenobi."

Anakin finally extracted himself long enough for Shmi to climb to her feet. But he seemed hesitant to leave his mother's side, and instead attached his head to her middle. Shmi stationed a hand on his shoulder and pulled him to. "I must thank Pamdé's physician when I am introduced. And the medical droid Master Jinn procured, so I am told."

"It's so wizard, Mom! They got it out of you! We're _free,_ Mom. We did it."

"Yes, my son. We are free." Shmi ran another hand down his cheek.

"It's wonderful. But I for one, would still like to know _what_ that thing was." Padmé, beneath the flame-coloured hood, shot a look to Master Jinn. Her scowl suggested she'd been wheedling for an explanation from her Jedi protector, but Qui-Gon, true to his nature, had managed to evade answering those frustrated, pointed looks from his royal charge. After their hasty escape from Tatooine, ensuring Shmi's survival and being chased out of the engine room by one grumpy padawan wielding a hyperspanner, he'd found there was little else he'd rather do than find a quiet corner to sink himself into a deep meditation within.

His attempts to commune with the Force offered little explanation or answer to the questions he sent into its midst though.

Ahsoka seemed to be in possession of _some_ knowledge about the Sith Zabrak, so he felt he might find answers to at least _a handful_ of his questions with her… Perhaps she would be willing to offer some clue as to why the Trade Federation would make such an ungainly move by invading Naboo… or more importantly, _who_ exactly had pushed them to such an action. There seemed to be no reason to query the Force about that — it was just another part of the unraveling mystery that he watched Ahsoka try and weave into some semblance of sanity all on her own.

So instead, Qui-Gon had counted his breaths until he could no longer distinguish body from thought… and had sent a query about this _stranger_ into the murky midsts. Who was she? If she were after the boy, then why had she not taken him by now? Why had she held back the Sith while they’d made their escape? And why, for if she knew the other assailant, did Ahsoka _not_ know who _she_ was?

Qui-Gon waited for the Force to respond. He wasn’t sure how long he remained perched in his position; time often lost meaning within the realm of the Living Force (the amount of times Obi-Wan had complained about missed meals and abandoned cups of hours old tea littering the common area floor certainly gave him some indication as to how long he could remain submerged). But the hours were often well spent — many times he’d emerge from his meditations with the answers he’d been seeking. Often, it was some enigmatic answer fuelled by jumbled imagery and traces of words that Qui-Gon could spend the hours putting together. But it seemed, that would not be the case this time…

For apparently, the Force was just as confused as he was; all he received in response to his query was just a faint image of Ahsoka Tano standing beside his padawan, sharing a quiet smile.

Meditation fruitless, Qui-Gon had slipped himself from its elusive grasp and set about calming his unease. The deck-plating sported a litany of scuff marks by the time he’d finished his hundredth lap of pacing — all he could do was try and work over the looped image, and perhaps try and uncover any possible hidden meaning behind it.

The working conclusions he’d come to were eventually interrupted by the abrupt news of Ms Skywalker’s return to consciousness. And once Shmi was asking for a cup of tea, and the young Queen was trying to organise a small banquet in response, Qui-Gon found he could breathe past the weight his ineffectual meditation had left within him. Shmi’s recovery was another small, welcomed victory in the mess of chaos they’d had thrust upon them in the last 48 hours.

They’d moved to the Queen’s chambers for a supposed change of scenery. They hadn’t been talking long before Ani all but fell into the room, and Qui-Gon’s other charge managed to stop him from breaking his nose with a quick hand and sharp eye.

And as Anakin bowled into his mother’s arms, Qui-Gon stood and waited for his two— _for Ahsoka and Obi-Wan_ to explain why they looked as though they were both nursing migraines the size of greater Mos Espa.

"You still haven’t said much about Shmi’s attacker, Master Jinn. Why is that?" Padmé’s impatience and frustration were like a beacon; it was Ahsoka who blinked at the familiar feeling, for it lasted only a beat of a second, but she found herself back before the Senate with Padmé’s righteous anger and contempt lashing out at Tarkin.

Qui-Gon folded his hands back into the great expanse of his sleeves, and Ahsoka watched as his gaze darted to her, before it was back on the Queen again. Perhaps his intentions weren’t to accuse, but Ahsoka certainly felt a flicker of guilt brush over her.

"I offer you little response, Your Highness, because I don’t have much of one to give." Qui-Gon arched his shoulders in the slightest hint of a shrug. "They were both trained in the Jedi arts, and they obviously mean us ill well."

It wasn’t the whole truth. And everyone in the room knew as much. But it was Padmé, not one to step down despite the near fifty years Master Jinn had on her, who narrowed her eyes.

"The woman; she wasn’t after me. The— _he_ was… but not the other."

Qui-Gon sighed, and after a belated breath, "Yes, Your Highness, it seems only one was an assassin of the Trade Federation. The other," Qui-Gon gestured to his fellow Jedi. "We doubt she was sent by the Trade Federation, or that she has any interest in you."

"No, she doesn’t." Anakin piped up, and once he’d separated himself from his mother’s side, every eye was on him. “She wants _me,_ not you, Padmé _._ ”

"Ani? What do you mean?" Shmi kept a hand locked to his shoulder.

"Obi-Wan and I just spoke to her." Anakin’s gaze darted straight to the Jedi in question, and Obi-Wan furrowed his brows and twisted his lips.

Qui-Gon sighed; this was the exact situation he’d been hoping to avoid, both the developing conversation and the confirmation that _yes,_ it was indeed Anakin Skywalker the stranger was after. This revelation though… in a way, it was the final nail in the coffin of Qui-Gon’s growing suspicions.

She _was_ after the boy.

She’d found him, past the fortified walls of mental shielding he’d put in place… It wasn’t a truth he welcomed. After all, there weren’t many Jedi Masters who could accomplish such a feat, and then manage to drag his apprentice into the momentary bond to interrogate him as well. He almost didn't wish to know _who_ or _what_ they were dealing with.

"… How is that pos—? What does she want with Ani?" Padmé paled, her forehead puckering at the revelation. Her apprehension seemed to be matched by Shmi’s.

Qui-Gon felt his jaw tighten, and he fought to find a response the room would accept in the absence of any definitive one. "Anakin’s raw command of the Force is unrivalled by any Jedi youngling I’ve ever encountered before. It is possible she is attempting to harness that power for herself—"

"That’s not what she said." Anakin said.

Qui-Gon folded his arms before himself, and willed the boy to continue. "It isn’t?"

"She said she wants me to bring balance… What did she mean by that?"

It was Qui-Gon’s turn to pale — _it couldn’t be true_ , could it? The boy was certainly powerful, but was he truly—

Ahsoka was watching him with wide eyes when he turned to gauge her reaction. She’d spent the conversation sending sharp glares to his apprentice, and softer glances to Anakin; but her gaze had finally made it to _him_ , Qui-Gon, at Anakin’s news. And when she’d realised he’d caught her staring, the way her gaze darted away with that almost-ashamed air was that final nail in the coffin.

 _He is._ Qui-Gon had his answer. _Over twenty thousand..._

"For now, it is nothing you have to worry about Anakin." Qui-Gon took a step forward and sunk to his haunches before the boy. Anakin inclined his head, and Qui-Gon didn’t have to fake the smile he gave in an attempt to try and reassure the boy. "I promise that Ahsoka, Obi-Wan and I will do _everything_ in our power to keep you, your mother, and the Queen here safe." He gestured to everyone present in turn, and Anakin followed the sweep of his hand as Ahsoka stood forward while Obi-Wan dipped his head.

"And if somehow the Jedi fail, I promise to keep you safe, Ani." Padmé smiled, perhaps picking up on Jinn’s efforts to try and quickly crush the (well-hidden) panic rising in Anakin. 

Anakin turned his gaze up from beneath his bangs, and mirrored Padmé’s smile. It was certainly a start.

"Now," Qui-Gon called his attention back again. "I promise that I will explain everything that I know, once we’ve discussed this issue and can offer you all something more than a vague estimation of events."

"Come, Ani. We’ll leave the Jedi be. How about we go find something to eat?" Shmi tucked her hand into her son’s, sparing another look of gratitude to her Jedi saviours before she was starting for the door. But when she came to a sudden stop, and reached a casual hand back to gesture for Padmé to follow… Shmi snatched back her hand, as if only just realising the audacity of trying to mother the Queen of Naboo. But the moment passed with Padmé’s reassuring smile, and her quick dart across the room.

"I hope you like ice cream, Ani. ‘Cause I know where Pauto keeps his secret tub in the Mess." Padmé put a hand to his shoulder, and the three disappeared behind a closing door.

"If it’s pink berry flavour, I hope they save some for me." Ahsoka’s laugh was empty as she sighed and stepped closer to Master Jinn. Qui-Gon had regained his footing, and was once again neatly folding himself away in the lengths of his robe.

"I’m sure there’ll be ample leftovers — there isn’t an abundance of sugar on Tatooine. Anakin doesn’t strike me as the type to crave it." Obi-Wan offered.

"Wanna bet?" Ahsoka put a hand to her waist, and arched a challenging brow in Obi-Wan’s direction. Though he looked ready with a scathing quip to rebuff her sass, Qui-Gon never gave him the chance.

"Padawans, if we’re quite finished discussing Anakin’s palette…"

Both padawan learner’s dropped their gazes, Obi-Wan sniffing in veiled embarrassment while Ahsoka ran a hand up and down an arm. Qui-Gon sighed. _Honestly._ He wouldn’t subject Obi-Wan to the humiliation of tugging at his braid in this moment, but Force knew he had to fight the temptation.

"I suppose you could start by explaining what Anakin meant by you and he sharing a vision with our mysterious assailant?" Qui-Gon prompted, canting his head to the side and raising a brow.

Obi-Wan pressed his lips together, and that frown that had made a home on Obi-Wan’s face since the age of fourteen was back again. "I’m still not quite sure what to make of it myself — I’ve never experienced anything of that strength or magnitude before."

Qui-Gon took a moment to give his padawan another once-over, even going so far as to ascertain a sweep of Obi-Wan’s aura — his apprentice was (what he himself had termed) _jittery_ after visions, his signature humming at a strange frequency as a result of having stretched himself so far in the Force. The boy was powerful, more powerful than Qui-Gon often gave him credit for.

"At first, I wasn’t sure what I was sensing… but then Anakin’s panic… it was pulsing like some erratic beacon into the space around me. It wasn’t hard to locate him after that… nor the Sith."

"Is that the agreed truth then? That they are Sith?" Qui-Gon turned his eye on Ahsoka, and again her eyes darted away with those abundance of secrets locked away behind her gaze. But it wouldn’t take long now for necessity to win out.

" _Yes._ I believe they are."

"You _believe?"_ Qui-Gon frowned.

"I… only know one— _of_ one. Darth Maul. He’s… quite the bad credit chip by my time." She spared a glance to Obi-Wan, and Qui-Gon could easily discern the unease in her tone and gaze as she did. Unseen memories played out before her that neither he nor Obi-Wan were privy to — but a flicker of protectiveness did surface from Qui-Gon with that momentary look she gave his padawan; what did the future hold for his apprentice and this _Sith?_

"Have you fought this Maul before?" Obi-Wan asked, and Ahsoka again seemed to be chewing on words, and the constant struggle of not knowing how much information to offer them. Qui-Gon stifled the pang of frustration that gripped him — he appreciated her position, but when the lives of those who’d been placed in his care were clearly in danger, he had to wonder as to what secrets Ahsoka was so desperate to keep if she’d willing risk the wellbeing of Anakin, Shmi, the Queen, and Obi-Wan at the cost of continuing her silence.

But finally, " _I haven’t,_ but I know of him. My gr— _Obi-Wan._ You," she sighed, closing her eyes in resignation. "And you, Master Jinn. You have both fought him before. I left my time with Maul still at large."

Qui-Gon sighed, and a quick glance at his padawan proved that Obi-Wan hadn’t missed her stumble either. _Grandmaster — is that what she would have said?_ Well, if that were true, then it certainly cast some light on her constant deferring to Obi-Wan, and her continuing familiarity with him… But for every question answered, another several reared their heads. He was sure Obi-Wan was undertaking the same mental gymnastics as himself in that moment — if Ahsoka was roughly eighteen years of age, and Obi-Wan was twenty-four, and Ahsoka had fallen thirteen years backwards through time… _thirty-seven._ Obi-Wan was thirty-seven, and already had a grandpadawan nearing the age of trials.

Qui-Gon frowned. There was something—

"I suppose it isn’t too far a leap of logic to assume that we will run aground with this Maul character in the near future."

"Try a week from now." Ahsoka responded to his padawan’s question, throwing a hand up in defeat before slinging herself down onto a console-turned-chair. Folding her feet beneath herself, the deck-plates below became the unwilling victim of her gaze.

A shared apprehensive look loomed between Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan, both knowing exactly what the other was thinking — neither dared break the silence, lest they change the subject and prevent Ahsoka’s latest distracted spill of secrets.

"Then… he will succeed in finding the Queen." Obi-Wan prompted when the seconds began to drag.

"I—" Her gaze darted up at them, and perhaps they shouldn’t have been standing so close. Qui-Gon moved away when he realised she’d easily read their silence for what it was — a growing eagerness and impatience for answers. Ahsoka sighed as he reached the communications alcove.

"I can’t reveal _everything_ to you, Master. Not without— I need to discuss this with—" Ahsoka sighed, her hands finding her temples. Closing her eyes, the room swam as the Force move around them and towards her. "If you ask me to predict Maul and his Master’s movements, I can tell you what happened last time. However, I can’t guarantee the order of events this time round."

"Too much has already been subject to change."

Ahsoka dropped her head, a half-smile twisting her lips. "Yes. For starters, I, of course, was never meant to be here." The half-smile turned into the beginnings of something genuine and warm, and Qui-Gon found it reflected on the face of his padawan.

"Well, we’re glad for your company, Ahsoka." Obi-Wan smiled.

It was the first time Ahsoka failed to have a sarcastic quip in response to Obi-Wan’s mirth. Perhaps it was because there was no impudent edge to Obi-Wan’s words that she needed to bite back at — instead, she returned that quiet, genuine smile Obi-Wan now saved for her.

The moment passed with Qui-Gon being thrown back into his failed quest for answers earlier that day. The meditation, for the most part, had been fruitless, but he’d been determined to make _something_ from the jumbled imagery he’d been relayed, the most prominent of which being the strange tableau of Ahsoka Tano and Obi-Wan quietly standing side-by-side in a nondescript location, the wave of genuine warmth eddying between them reminiscent of what he felt before him now.

Qui-Gon had assumed the Living Force was still reeling in disarray from the activities of the past week, but surely it wouldn’t hurt to test another theory, would it?

"So we have come to the agreement, under guidance from Ahsoka, that this _Maul_ character is of the Sith."

"If you mean to ask me who the woman is… _again,_ I have no answer for you, Master Jinn."

"I did mean to put aside discussion of Maul, in order to start putting together what observations we have each made so far of this mysterious stranger…" Qui-Gon tried to turn his sigh into a calming breath, but it still bore that edge of frustration. "In the hopes of making at least _some_ sense of things."

Again, Ahsoka dropped her head, further tucking her feet beneath herself. "My apologies, Master Qui-Gon."

"No apology neccessary, Padawan." Qui-Gon shrugged, before folding his hands back into the great expanse of his sleeves. Obi-Wan perked up at this, going so far as to reorder his limbs from where he was resting against a bulkhead — perhaps he’d sensed Qui-Gon’s next question. "Obi-Wan. What did you make of her in this vision you shared with Anakin?"

Obi-Wan unfolded his arms to rest against the lip of the bulkhead behind him. "Well, she's aware of Ahsoka's displacement in time — she accused her of being the harbinger of death, as dramatic as that is." He shook his head in quiet bewilderment, his final shrug directed towards Ahsoka. "Either she's mad, or she possesses a keen intellect. Though, I’m not sure where I want to place my credits at this point.”

"She’s _dangerous_. Like I’ve stated before, I have no idea who she is." Ahsoka sighed to herself, now working her lower lip between sharp teeth. “She’s after Anakin, and she’s an enigma I can’t work out."

"According to Anakin, she believes he will bring balance to the Force." 

The reaction was immediate and on display for all — the colour drained from her face, and the Force crackled around her in uneasy waves. He could almost see her swallow around a dry throat, and those cog's whirring in her head. 

"You know of the boy’s great potential." Qui-Gon dared to test the waters, and he was sure Ahsoka was going to bite through her lip. Obi-Wan watched them both with a careful eye. “He is the Chosen One, isn’t he.”

"Master Jinn—"

"I sense the great conflict within you, Ahsoka." He paused, weighing up whether or not he should push the point any further, before, "You need not say anymore if you believe it will place causality in jeopardy, padawan."

"Thank you, Master.” That barricade that had begun to fortify itself around her dismantled itself, and Qui-Gon gave an internal sigh of relief.

"However, I think we can all agree that she _is_ trained in the arts of the Jedi," he offered, eager to hear their opinions on this point.

"Quite thoroughly, might I add." Obi-Wan said, the equal amount of wonder and concern in his voice evident. "If it weren’t obvious that she was Sith, I’d say she was Temple trained."

"Now _there’s_ a scary thought, but…" Ahsoka tried not to lose herself to the sheer wave of possibilities washing over her. Speaking them aloud would surely be more for her own benefit than for either Obi-Wan or Qui-Gon’s. But even with that in mind, her stomach was churning, and the dryness in her mouth left her tongue thick, and sticking to the roof of her mouth. "She met my Soresu with the correct defence, as if it were textbook to her." The words were heavy in her mouth. "The groundwork to her movements… _the progression of her attacks…_ they were _very_ familiar to me. I found I could counter them easily, because I was almost anticipating her every move."

The change in body language was almost palpable as Qui-Gon shifted his weight from one leg to another. His chin came to rest on his chest, the action meant to project calm authority rather than the excitement she knew Qui-Gon was experiencing — when had she become so well versed in Qui-Gon Jinn’s quirks and mannerisms?

" _Very familiar."_ he repeated. "How so?"

"My… _It’s insane,_ but something about her attacks… they _breathed_ An— _my master."_

A glance to her left proved her suspicions when Obi-Wan’s expectant look found hers. She shook her head. "I was being serious when I said you weren’t my Master, Obi-Wan."

"As well as your insistence on that fact for the past week, Ahsoka, I gathered that for myself when you said she met your Soresu with the correct defence… Soresu isn’t my strongest form."

The look on Ahsoka’s face alone nearly prompted a deluge of explanations and defences from Obi-Wan about his lack of mastery of Form III, but Qui-Gon cut them both off, eager to move the conversation on. "It could be that she was trained by a member of your master’s lineage," however, his proposal earned him a hard and fast opposition from Ahsoka.

"I— no, that’s not possible."

Qui-Gon raised a brow. "How so?"

A million things went racing by in the space of seconds as Ahsoka worried her lower lip between her teeth. Finally, she pressed her lips together and dropped her shoulders in defeat. "My Master… I was his only padawan, and he was the only padawan of _his_ master before him. They each had their own distinctive fighting style, but my master’s… I can’t _not_ recognise it."

A hand left her thigh, instead reaching up towards her waist.

Meanwhile, Qui-Gon dared to put his theory out in the open. "So, we are accepting that she is from… another time?"

While Obi-Wan folded himself further into the wall, now running his braid between finger and thumb, Ahsoka finished unhooking whatever it was that hung at her waist.

"… If she is," she started, "then I don’t know from _when…_ but there is something else, Master." Ahsoka put her hand out in offering, revealing once again the mysterious lightsaber she’d wielded during the scrape on Tatooine. "She had this on her belt— I pilfered it during our run-in."

With careful hands, Qui-Gon collected the saber, and immediately his expression sunk to match hers. The crystal bled accusations of _foreign_ at him, as if seething at its mishandling. The Force snapped around it, snaking its way around his wrist in tightening coils, and rolling over itself in continuous waves.

"I know the design." Ahsoka shared, and the hesitance in her voice earned their combined attention. While Qui-Gon passed the saber to the awaiting hands of his apprentice, Ahsoka watched the exchange with an uneasy look. "It’s modelled after Master Kenobi’s."

The look she received from both men was of no surprise… after all, the design of the saber that hung at Kenobi’s hip couldn’t be more dissimilar to that which he now held. “I don’t know when or how, but you’ll lose yours and be forced to forge a new one… _in this exact design._ ”

Obi-Wan activated it, the green spilling over them and into every crevice of the space they stood in. Ahsoka watched him take a few experimental swings.

"It’s not yours, evidently, but if it weren’t for the colour of the blade, I would have sworn…" she cleared her throat. "There’s more. During the fight, she aimed for my weaker side; it's a gamble, but the kind you only take when you know your opponent well."

"And?" Qui-Gon prompted.

"At that angle, I’d usually deflect with my shoto. It was all so fast, I didn’t have time to compensate for its absence."

The blade retracted, taking with it the green wash the room had been doused in. Obi-Wan palmed the saber a few more times, before his gaze rose back to Qui-Gon and Ahsoka. "She said something to me in that exact vein, that I favour my right side when attacking."

"She is observant." Qui-Gon quipped, but Obi-Wan shook his head.

"No, it was more than that. She _knew_ , like it were commonplace to her. She… _admonished_ me for it."

"She is also wise, then… but these are odd occurrences. At this stage, the Force offers us no guidance, except to have you commune with this mysterious Sith through visions. As the evidence stands, I believe there is only one logical conclusion." Qui-Gon looked to Ahsoka. "Under any other circumstances, I’d be reticent to suggest this, but… it appears we are dealing with _another_ Force user who has also fallen through time."

That credit that had seemingly been spinning in the air throughout their exchange had finally _dropped_. Ahsoka’s face fell into her hands, and she mushed her nose against the palm of her gloved hand. The breath she'd been zealously guarding finally fled from her lungs with an audible hiss. "I was hoping this wouldn’t be the case… that maybe you two could come up with something else, some other excuse that I would happily believe."

" _What do we make of those who come knocking in the night?_ ” Obi-Wan mused. Both sets of eyes darted to him, and Kenobi unfolded his arms while the deck-plates again received another frown that would have sent Ahsoka’s head hanging in shame if she’d ever been on the receiving end of it. “It was something she said to Anakin. I believe she’s quoting Hernig II. _What do we make of those who come knocking in the night? Does the thunderous banging awaken the servants, or summon the weary Master from his complacent slumber?"_

"Hernig II? Isn’t that—?" Ahsoka fell short with her memory.

"The exalted poet of the once Xiolig Empire. It’s a rhyming couplet from the thirty-second stanza of his well-renowned epic, ‘King Brixlik’. It’s well over 100,000 years old, but it details the fall of a once mighty king." Qui-Gon answered for her, all in one, effortless breath.

"I… must have missed that one when studying his oeuvre." Ahsoka offered, throwing her hands up to signal peace. Obi-Wan pulled his robe back around his thighs, and Ahsoka noticed too that the temperature in the room seemed to have plummeted somewhat.

Obi-Wan’s head turned her way. "Then you’re not alone… I can barely remember it myself."

Expectantly, they both looked to Qui-Gon, who gave a long-suffering sigh. "Honestly, what are they teaching you younglings in historical literature at the Temple these days?"

"I’m rather fond of the collected works of Gravlin the Great, myself." Ahsoka shrugged.

"His third book is a renowned classic of the Corellian canon." Obi-Wan nodded in agreement.

"I always thought his second was the better book out of the eight. He kinda lost his momentum by the fourth."

"I agree— I never quite understood the symbolic analogy between the salient motif of—"

" _Padawans_."Qui-Gon’s displeased huff cut off anything else Obi-Wan might have had to say. "Do you wish for a brief synopsis of Hernig II, or continue debating the philosophical differences between pathetic fallacy and personification in 13th century Corellian Literature?"

"Sorry, Master." The second instance of their unison almost served to shock Qui-Gon, but he’d certainly had his fair share of surprises today, and was eager to move on. So with another long-suffering sigh, he did just that.

"The epic recounts the story of an old king, the last of a long-lived lineage of peaceful rulers, whose only heir foretold the downfall of their dynasty. Her father refused to listen, and she was banished to the very edge of the world." Qui-Gon ran a hand along his beard, and while preoccupied with the story at hand, he noted somewhere in the back of his mind that he’d need to set aside time to comb out the remaining sand that bristled beneath his fingers. "Eventually, desperation and loneliness lead to a change of heart in the Father. But try as he might, throughout the many years he spent looking, no one could find her.

"Until one night, a thunderous banging awoke the household. A stranger had come to warn of a terrible turn of future events she had foreseen."

"Three guesses who." Ahsoka remarked, and earned herself a heavy sigh of agreement from Qui-Gon.

"In a way, Ahsoka. A very long, and at times, _tiresome_ story cut short," Qui-Gon took a breath, and Obi-Wan resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the scan his Master performed of them both in order to prolong the drama. "She returns to cut off her own father’s head in vengeance. She marries her cousin, only to have an affair with the sister."

"Force," Ahsoka resisted the urge to curl a lip at the grisly turn of events.

"Now I remember it. She visited her father many times over the years… _before_ the _decapitation_ incident, of course…" Obi-Wan stumbled over that minor detail, "And Old King Brixlik thought she was an enemy spy each time."

"Wait, hold up a second." Ahsoka threw a hand up in confusion. "What happens to this mysterious stranger? I thought you said it was the daughter."

"I did say, _in a way,_ Ahsoka. The mysterious stranger was a _reflection_ of the daughter." Qui-Gon said. 

Ahsoka’s jaw hung open for a few unchecked moments, until she realised she was doing a damn fine impression of a fish out of water. "… Okay, now you’ve lost me."

"It’s part of the old belief system on Xiolig Prime. A reflection is supposedly the better conscience of a person." Qui-Gon explained.

"Wait, wait… so you’re saying this daughter’s… _better half_ came to warn her own father of herself coming to kill him?"

"It’s convoluted and antiquated." Obi-Wan shrugged. "As much of Xiolig epic poetry is."

Ahsoka’s hand finally fell back to her lap. "Alright. So it’s an old, epic poem about kriffed-off daughters, and patricide — _daddy issues, much?_ But what’s this got to do with… our _stranger."_ A flash of confused realisation twists her face. " _No._ What?" She jabs an accusing finger at Obi-Wan. "You said that _she_ said she was after Anakin. She’s not here to kill her father… _unless…"_

"Let’s not jump to any conclusions, Ahsoka. After all, she might not even be referring to herself... _you yourself_ are a stranger to this time." Qui-Gon put a steadying hand to her shoulder, but Ahsoka shook it off with an incredulous scowl.

"Ah, _I_ am not the one here to kill my father... or _any_ father figures of the like."

The way Master Jinn's shoulders fell signalled his capitulation. "Padawan, I am simply expressing the fact that, as of yet, we have no way of understanding her true meaning. Patience." This time, Ahsoka welcomed the steadying hand to her side. "All will be revealed in time." While Ahsoka mumbled something beneath her breath that sounded an awful lot like '... _too late,',_ Qui-Gon ran a concerned eye over Obi-Wan, just to gauge the boy’s reaction to the unravelling plot. And perhaps Obi-Wan had become too used to that protective streak Qui-Gon struggled to stifle, because the boy sent a pulse of reassurance across their bond that surely did more for Qui-Gon’s nerves than for his. 

"Is there ever any mention of a mother in the story?" Ahsoka had crossed her arms over her chest, as if to barricade herself away with her racing thoughts, and Qui-Gon had to wonder what she knew that _again_ she was reticent to share with them.

"Not as such — which is rare for Xiolig culture, for it is predominantly matriarchal. Why do you ask?" Qui-Gon inclined his head, and raised a brow.

"It’s not important," she shrugged them off with a despondent sigh, finally pulling herself up and away from the console that had doubled as a seat for their entire exchange. Her rising signalled the close to their conversation, so Qui-Gon took a step back and sent his frown towards the ceiling.

"She was raised on Coruscant," Obi-Wan offered as Ahsoka stretched an arm over her back to work out the knot stooping in an alcove for a near half-hour had left her with. "She has one of the strongest Coruscanti accents I’ve ever heard."

Ahsoka sighed. "You know accents aren't always a guarantee of where you were raised. We were all raised on Coruscant, at the Temple. You usually have to have a parent of Coruscanti heritage to have inherited that accent." 

"Says the Togruta who speaks with a very convincing Mid Rim accent. By that logic, I should barely be understandable; the formal dialect on Stewjon is Keltoi, and the Keltoi accent is notoriously difficult for the non-basic speaker to understand when first learning basic."

"You’re Stewjoni?" Ahsoka stopped pulling her right arm beyond the extent the human skeletal system would allow, and instead gave him a look that left Obi-Wan struggling to discern the meaning behind.

_"Yes?"_

"…Funny. I guess I always assumed you were from some well-to-do family on Coruscant." Her once-over continued, and the smile that further curled her lips when she paused at his hair sent a self-conscious hand to smooth it back once more.

Ahsoka supposed she’d never pinned the obvious due to his soft-spoken Coruscanti accent, and his height… or rather, lack thereof. "You’re _a lot_ smaller than other humans from Stewjon I’ve met."

"Thank you, Ahsoka."

"But I suppose the shock of red hair should have been a dead give away."

"Thank you?"

Ahsoka took a step closer, folding her arms over her chest as she did. "How’d you lose your accent, anyway? I’ve heard it’s notoriously difficult for a Stewjon native to lose the Keltoi accent… Force, I can’t imagine you with the Keltoi brogue."

"Well, there really isn’t any reason to, now is there." Obi-Wan certainly looked somewhat put-out by all the scrutiny and attention he was receiving. 

"It still slips through sometimes when he’s tired." Qui-Gon chimed in, feigning innocence as both Ahsoka and Obi-Wan turned their gazes to him, the latter certainly channeling some very directed irritation his way. Though, he had to wonder how Obi-Wan didn’t see the inevitable as Qui-Gon reached out to tug at that braid of marvellous ginger Ahsoka had complimented mere moments ago. "Or when he’s angry," he deadpanned, Obi-Wan now rubbing a hand over the assaulted patch of scalp while trying to suppress a threatening smile.

Ahsoka’s smile only grew. "I never noticed."

"In all honesty, I was probably sick of being _bullied_ for it, and decided I’d lose it once and for all."

A full display of Ahsoka’s teeth were offered as her grin split her face lekku to lekku. " _Och aye."_

Obi-Wan only frowned. "Thank you for proving my point exactly, Ahsoka."

"I’m only joking, Kenobi. You’re alright." Ahsoka nudged his shoulder. "Though I bet it’s Master Vos who makes the best jabs."

"Vos becomes a master?" Out of everything discussed in the Queen’s Chambers they’d commandeered for the last half-hour, Obi-Wan sounded perhaps the most horrified at this particular revelation.

"I _think_ that’s enough talk for now." Qui-Gon’s hand came down on Obi-Wan’s shoulder, and not for the umpteenth time today did Qui-Gon cut off anything else that Obi-Wan might have had to say. "We should convene with the others in the Mess, and share with the Queen and Ms Skywalker what we know so far. We'll finish compiling what we know, and perhaps help ourselves to a late breakfast." 

The high spirits that had been struck-up by Ahsoka’s gentle teasing lost its hold on them with the return to talk of the mission at hand. Ahsoka dropped her head, her smile washing away as Qui-Gon headed for the door. With a gentle sweep, Obi-Wan stood aside to allow her to follow along before him. The lightsaber she’d pilfered from their puzzling pursuer was passed back to her, and Ahsoka clipped it back in place of her lost lightsaber.

“Dinna go caw canny wi the accent, Ahsoka.” Obi-Wan whispered as she passed by, and Ahsoka almost tripped over her own feet.

"You know, I have no idea what you just said to me,” she laughed as they stepped out into the corridor and started on a path to the Mess. 

"I said, _don't go overboard with the accent, Ahsoka."_

"That..." Ahsoka shook her head, trying to clear the marble that was refusing to roll. "Hang on, don't tell me that's your _actual_ accent, and you've been pulling all our legs for _years._ " 

"No, of course not." Obi-Wan fell into step beside her. "I'm sure if you were to go to Stewjon, you'd hear me for the charlatan I am." 

Ahsoka sucked on the side of her mouth in thought, raising her brows at him. "I don't know. That _was_ fairly convincing." 

Up ahead, Qui-Gon rolled his eyes at the continuing banter behind him. The thought had already crossed his mind before now, but Obi-Wan had already taken to amusing Ahsoka with wise-cracks and an overzealous showcase of the boy's abundant charm. Again, he was thrown back into recalling the long, illustrious ventures they'd shared during their time together. Obi-Wan had dealt with each distraught teen that'd crossed their paths differently (he'd unwisely fallen in love with a few along the way, but what could Qui-Gon expect? Beneath the calm, serious and collected façade, Obi-Wan was a bleeding heart). It seemed his response to the young Ahsoka was to… crack jokes every few moments and allay her worries with his boundless charm... something she seemed to know exactly how to handle. Qui-Gon heaved a sigh into the Force, mentally rolling his eyes. 

They still had another week until they reached Coruscant. 

And he still had to figure out sleeping arrangements, and work schedules. 

And mentally prepare himself for tackling the Council with his proposals. 

Qui-Gon heaved another sigh into the Force, now trying to follow the conversation behind him that had switched into Togruta... Obi-Wan's Togruta wasn't overly impressive, but Ahsoka didn't seem to mind his choppy inflections and trouble with the inverted second vowel. But perhaps she was laughing at Obi-Wan's ignorance to the fact she'd just called him a _krutcha,_ and had him enthusiastically repeating it back at her like a trained kowakian.

_Oh, Obi-Wan._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again, folks. Thanks for reading! I'm endeavouring to both complete this story, and give it a bit of an edit (just fixing a few things up... because I'm actually dying over 17yo me's writing style... though in saying that, I don't think 21yo me is any better :P). Hope you're enjoying the read so far! 
> 
> If you'd like to leave kudos, or a comment, love to hear from you! (And if you're not already here from [tumblr](https://autumnchild22.tumblr.com/), feel free to pester me over there 😊)


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